Flower Among Weeds
by Claidi
Summary: Preferring wit and intelligence over beauty and grace, Alva lived a life that consisted of books and learning—and she was happy with that. But an unlikely meeting fueled the flames of envy and hatred, starting an inferno she would have to face.
1. Proem

Summary: 

Preferring wit and intelligence over beauty and grace, Alva lived a life that consisted of books and learning—and she was happy with that. But an unlikely meeting fueled the flames of envy and hatred, starting an inferno she would have to face. 

In this Cinderella retelling, the heroine is more than a tragic victim of detestation, and the hero is more than a rescuer from bleak destiny. In this world, magic exists in the simplest forms, and does not necessarily mean transformations of pumpkins to carriages. The only magic needed here is the determination and the love that could empower even the weakest of all creatures.

_~PROEM~_

_Unfurling, embracing violet petals of a single flower_

_The dreary swarming bodies of humdrum weeds_

_This girl must have a perfect life, _people often thought when they see me. 

A person might seem to have a perfect life, might seem to have everything, and might seem to be the envy of everyone. Her life could be a dream to others, a fantasy worth living, and a fantasy worth every endeavor to fulfill. 

Their eyes could only see the surface. They could not see what was needed to be seen.

They judged me with their eyes, and their eyes were wrong.


	2. I

Many raised their eyebrows whenever they would find out the cause of my existence. It was not so deplorable, but then, they had ideas that it was only a marriage of convenience. They all thought that my parents never really loved each other. Worse, they thought me as a problem for my parents when they were young. After all, a lady who had married because of a child with no father meant that it was just convenience—nothing more. This rarely happened in Tryla, almost never. And whenever it did happen, it was a constant subject of scrutiny and gossip.  
  
I was made out of wedlock. My mother was the daughter of a rich lord, and my father was the heir to a lower ranked baron. They fell in love even though my mother's parents disapproved of it. Because of their love, I was created. Because of their love, I lived in my mother's womb for two months without a legal father. Yes, they were married just to cover me up, so they wouldn't be disgraced. But then, they did love each other, it was just that they didn't expect to be married so soon with all my mother's parents' antagonism.  
  
My father's parents were smiling on the day they exchanged their vows because they would gain from my mother's fortune. My mother's parents were frowning on that day because their daughter was married to a poorer man.  
  
They've never told me, but I worked it out myself. I was born seven months after their marriage, which was impossible if I was created on the night of their marriage. I was born a healthy, nine-month old babe.  
  
Not only was I unintentional, my birth rendered my mother barren. She could no longer give birth because it was a challenge to bear me.  
  
But because of this little detail, many had assumed I was an accident, an unintended, a problem. Once, I had heard snide remarks on how I was fortunate that my parents married, or else, I would be an illegitimate. And my grandparents (on my mother's side) concluded that I was the reason of my mother's downfall. Mother could have married a duke if she wanted. She could have richer if she had not married Father. Legally, there was nothing the matter with me. I was legitimate. But when it came to people's thoughts, I was just a hindrance.  
  
All this had an impact on my young mind, since this had all occurred mostly when I was still a child. In my mind, society was just there to bedevil me. And with this, I never did try to put myself in that place. Instead, I isolated myself from other children, afraid that they too would judge me. I had allowed them to think what they will, but I would not allow myself to hear it.  
  
This had dissolved slowly by the passage of time. And eventually it stopped when something too important happened. They stopped talking about it out of respect of Mother. But even if that occurrence was the only thing that could have remedied society's rumors, I wouldn't have wanted it to happen. When I grew up, it had finally ceased, except for a few traces. What surprised me was that my grandparents forgot I was the reason why their daughter married my father. Their antagonism was gone, and they compensated for their lack of love for me by showering me with affection.  
  
But despite all the talk, my parents loved me dearly. I was the fruit of their love. I was their little Alva. Father was the one who named me. Despite the fact that he was not as rich as my mother was, he was well educated. He named me Alva, a foreign name meaning light-skinned or white. He named me this because I was light-skinned when I was born. Mother also called me in another name: Celeste. It was because I was ethereal and celestial. She believed that I was the best event in her life.  
  
I loved my parents in return. They treated me fairly and educated me properly. I grew up reading many books. I've read all sorts of them, from fiction to non-fiction. But what I truly love the most was history.  
  
Nothing excites me more than real events written on paper. I've memorized in my head the wars that include my kingdom, Tryla. I could name them—the Rosean, the Miseth, the Etenod, and many more. I've known the societal changes that have happened since I was thirteen. I knew of the slavery that happened in Miseth, the discrimination in Etenod, the historic signing of the peace treaty in Rosea. I was in love in history, and I was sure it would be my only love.  
  
I was an active child. I was imaginative and a daydreamer, which were the two reasons why I wrote stories. I was troublesome and curious. Mother was often enraged when I climbed trees or ran wild. She would lecture me on being a lady, even though I was still eleven. I should have listened. I should have just tried to reach her expectations. If I had kept promises, why did I wait for the fulfillment of the bargain before actually doing my part of the deal?  
  
I realized too late that I shouldn't have. On my eleventh year, Mother died and my life changed drastically.  
  
~*~  
  
Mother's death was foreseen. Every day she was dying from a disease that affected few. I asked myself when I learned, "Why did it have to be her, when so many people could've taken her place?" Before the disease claimed her health, she was a socialite. She was gone at night, probably at a party. Before she would go, she would tuck me to bed and kiss my forehead.  
  
Yet, even before the disease, no one close to my family thought my mother would live long. She was sickly but she could be cured. It was just with that disease, a disease with no name and origin, made matters worse. Day by day, she would grow paler. She would have coughing fits when it was either too hot or too cold. Yet she could still lift her head up and be a mother and social butterfly.  
  
I saw the thread of life get thinner and thinner by each passing day.  
  
There was not a day in my life while Mother was still holding on that I didn't cry or bargain for her life. I promised never to climb trees or run wild. I promised to be the little lady that she wished me to be. I even promised to be sick instead of her. I cried because I had to see her suffer. I cried because she was fighting for her health when at the same time, her efforts made her lose it. I cried because I knew that one day, time would stop and suddenly, she would no longer be there.  
  
Then it happened. The feeling was indescribable. It could not be explained in one word. Only a poet could explain it. It was as a part of my heart was taken away. There was a gaping hole in the middle, sucking in all the sadness and keeping it there. There was a shadow in my soul, darkening my days and thoughts. It was unbearable, the loss, the loneliness. What made me feel worse was that I could never get that part back. That I would have to live with a hole in my heart until someone new would fill it up.  
  
When Mother died, Father couldn't accept it. He loved her very much. For days, he couldn't even look at me because I looked so much like her. His sadness made me even sicker inside myself. I couldn't look into the mirror, for I could see my mother's eyes staring back at me. His traveling increased just so he could distract himself from Mother's death. When he was back home, he acted as if I didn't exist, and locked himself up in his own room, lamenting.  
  
When he couldn't even take the mere trace of me in his own home, I was sent to finishing school. I could have hated him for that, but there was no more space in my heart other than sadness. When Mother died, I thought Father would comfort me in my early loss. But he didn't. He sent me away to an unpleasant place just to benefit himself.  
  
Finishing school was not the place I needed to be in this era of melancholy. The ladies there shunned me, saying I was not one of them. I was just too different. And they all heard the gossip, and cared too much to ignore it. The finishing school mistresses were of no consolation. They treated me with coldness. The only thing that made them acknowledged my presence was the fact that they were paid. I couldn't take it—the sadness, the desolation, and the loneliness. I buried myself even more in reading, writing, and drawing. I tried to make myself busy just to keep myself from feeling the dread and the loss. It was in that epoch of despair that I stumbled upon my temporary salvation.  
  
Something more could have been made through Mother's death. With only the two of us left in this world, Father and I could have shared our sadness, and somehow overcome it together. But it didn't happen. We both wallowed in our misery in two separate places, thus prolonging this period for months.  
  
I couldn't let my mother's death be my own ruin. I was determined to reach the light at the end of the tunnel. If Mother could speak to me from death's claim, she would say that I shouldn't let her death be my own suffering. It would only give her more pain, knowing that she left the world with my bliss.  
  
I did it for the love of Mother. I loved her too much to let her be the cause of my own grievances.  
  
I had escaped this challenge quicker than I had expected. But father was not as swift as I was.  
  
I waited until he got away from his melancholy. He realized that I was the only thing left of my mother. He believed that I was the only thing closest to her. He spoiled me even more. He gave me more books and baubles every time he returned from his travels.  
  
But on my fifteenth year, Father came home, not just carrying books and trinkets. In his arms was a new wife, and following them were two young ladies.  
  
I was old enough to understand that he needed someone he could love in a different way. Yet I couldn't understand how he could replace my sweet beloved mother with Lady Lacrecia. There was nothing wrong with her; she was beautiful and educated. But when I laid eyes on her, I could feel her steady glare surveying me from head to foot. Her eyebrow was raised, and it ticked me off. She didn't greet me informally, like what a real mother should. She just took out her hand, and I was forced to kiss it. But, since my father loved her, I gave her a chance to be like a mother, and I emptied a space in my heart for her.  
  
She told me to call her Mother, but I couldn't. My mother was my mother, the only one. She was buried and dead and this lady was not her. I call her Lacrecia to show her that she was not my real mother.  
  
Lady Lacrecia had two daughters, older than me. Caroline was two years older than Edith and I was a year my senior. Caroline was clearly the most pampered one. She was taller, with gleaming blond hair, in contrast to my raven locks. Her eyes were blue and glaring like her mother's eyes. Edith was quiet. Her hair was a shocking red that, I must admit, hurt my eyes. Her eyes were blue like Caroline, but serene.  
  
When we grew up together, I saw more of my two sisters. Caroline was like my stepmother. She was vivacious to other people, but not I. She was bossy and commanding around me, often ordering me to stay out of her way. Edith, on the other hand, was the paragon of a wife. She embroidered every day. She was introverted and seldom spoke.  
  
But though I tried, I couldn't love my stepfamily.  
  
I should have tried harder, because when Father died on my sixteenth year, they were the only family I had. 


	3. II

A/N  
  
Please reread the preceding chapters ('',) I rewrote them under the amazing guidance of the reviews that you guys gave me! Thanks so much! I am eternally grateful!!  
  
"Close the window, Alva, my dear. The draft is chilling," Lacrecia told me. The commanding tone of her voice irritated me, but I reasoned that I nearest the window and she had every right because she was my stepmother. I stood up and closed the window. We were in the solarium, the same room where we were when we heard of Father's encounter with bandits. It had been two months since my father's death but this room still made me relive one of my grievous moments. Father's death was not just the occurrence that made me recollect the feeling of dread as I enter this room; it was also Mother. Mother was the one who decorated this room, and made sure it lived up to the name solarium.  
  
She had done a marvelous job because to me, no solarium could and would ever match up with this one. The oak furniture complimented the nature motif, and the paintings clearly showed it. There were paintings of forests, waterfalls, meadows, and fields. My favorite painting was that of a lady picking up rosebuds in a field. Mother said that she was reminded of me by this painting because of the lady's dark hair and violet dress. There were crystal vases that adorned many areas of the room. Each delicate crystal vase held flowers that were strictly yellow. It was an unquestionable order from Mother that yellow (or anything near that shade) would be the only flower color to be permitted in the room. The results were vases with yellow daffodils, tulips, daisies, and narcissus. There was a small sanctuary at the right of the room, encased with bow windows that revealed verdant surroundings. Large floor-to-ceiling windows with lunettes stained with patterns of the sun opened to let in golden rays and refreshing zephyrs. There was a skylight facing south, thus permitting light and warmth during the summer season.  
  
In this room, we heard Father's death, and the room was not complimentary to our bereavement. In this room, I felt as if my heart had taken a plummet down the treacherous cliffs of Rosea. While I had cried my heart out because of pure anguish, it seemed to me that my stepfamily—especially Lacrecia—cried because they thought it mandatory. In front of those who wished us condolences, they wore black gowns and a pale mask for a face. But when they had already left, Edith with resume to her self-imposed muteness, Caroline would change from more colorful gowns that she said complimented her better, and Lacrecia would act as if it was not her husband who died. My stepfamily acted as if the funeral was the hardest occasion they had to plan for—well, at least my stepmother and eldest stepsister did. With Lacrecia sending stylish invitations and Caroline fussing over the refreshments to be served after the memorial, Father's funeral seemed more like a party than a remembrance.  
  
Father's funeral was grand because many people knew him. Even the king's advisor was there to represent their Highnesses. There were those who wished to comfort me, but I wouldn't speak to them. Though some attended in respect for the dead, they couldn't help but observe me—I knew. They all wondered if it was really Alva who was crying because they never did see me at all. They all saw me a recluse, and Father's funeral was an opportunity for them to see me—the girl who had conjured a little of their curiosities—at last. But it was not as if they had gotten an eyeful. My head was bowed most of the time, so they rarely saw my face. The first time the message of his death came, I cried until the next night. By then all my tears had run dry; I couldn't cry any more. I had sincerely thought that it was going to be the last time I would be crying for Father, but when I saw his coffin—only his coffin and not the body—I cried and cried as if I was never cried before. Foolishly, I thought I was brave enough to see his body in a box, but I couldn't even bear to look at the coffin, what more of the body? Although I knew myself to have a strong constitution, my knees weakened when I saw Father's dead face, and I nearly fainted with grief.  
  
When I did, I saw that he was forcibly taken out of his time. His face was twisted, almost in pain. People told me before that the faces of the dead were calm and peaceful because they had already liberated themselves from the burden of living and had gone to a better place unknown. And this was what I thought I would see when I would glance at his face. Peace and calm were replaced with bleakness and tension. Father's face was in such a twisted state of anger and sadness that I could almost hear the screams of soul emanating from his dead shell of a body. This image was etched in my mind for nights to come, turning into my nightmares and wrenching away sweet slumber's grasp. Worse came to worse when I had to witness my father's final farewell to the world of the living. If my maid, Barbara, didn't embrace me tightly while he was lowered down the swallowing pit in the earth, I would have fallen with him. Father was the one truly beside me when Mother died. He understood me. And now he was gone, never to return.  
  
Many had thought that I cried harder during Father's funeral because I was closer to him. But what they didn't know was that I was crying for both my parents. I was crying because with Father made sure that Mother would be alive in some way with his stories of their romance. My relationship with my father enabled me to embrace my mother's evanescent presence. But with Father gone in a sharp wind's passing, and my mother's spirit slowly dwindling away with the passage of time, I was all alone, with no one to lean on. I cried for the death of not one but both of my parents. I cried for the death of my family. I cried because I could almost imagine my future slowly transforming into an undistinguishable muddle of bile and waste.  
  
Even the manor that had been my home for the whole of my life had turned into a husk I couldn't comprehend. It was just a huge cave towering over dirt, with crevices filled with whispers of the past.  
  
But I also couldn't let it stop me. In my mind, I could see both of my parents, watching over me with happy yet sad eyes. They were joyful to be in each other's arms once again, but they were sad to leave me behind. I could see them cheering me on to do my best. I could hear their words of praise and encouragement. I was not going to make their death my own death. It would only make things worse, not better. I remembered what I thought when Mother died: I loved them too much for them to be the cause of my grievances. Father and Mother would be with me, yet not beside me. They were far away, in another realm, but I would still live on with their memories.  
  
I closed the window. The draft was chilling. It reminded me once more of the funeral. I sat back on the sofa and read my book. It was about the earlier settlements in Tryla. There were different rituals that once occurred in this very land. It was not as complicated as the happenings after this. There was not much information regarding this period. In the background, I could hear teacups clinking against small china plates, and my stepsister's excited babble on gossip.  
  
A bell was rung. I heard the large door open. Barbara was usually the one who opens the door. She was soon in the same room with us. She approached my stepmother and gave her a piece of paper.  
  
I smiled at Barbara. She was my friend and a companion since I was a child. She smiled at me, her kind eyes lighting up. Her brown hair was already graying and her face was wrinkled, yet she still had the strength to take assist to my needs. My beloved Barbara, I couldn't be myself without her.  
  
Lacrecia read the message with a smile playing on her lips. "Well it's about time. Rumors had been flying about a masque in the castle. And at last this much anticipated had come--addressed for us. It is a celebration for the coming summer."  
  
Tryla never ran out of celebrations. Masques were held frequently but I attended none of them. I was not the best dancer, nor did I like dancing. I supposed that if I tried hard and pushed myself to be a good dancer, it would be fulfilled. Unfortunately, I didn't want to. A daughter of a noble family was expected to attend such occasions, and since I absolutely refused to attend, people were already talking about me again. This time it was not because of my parents but because of my reclusive tendencies. But then, when Father died, Lacrecia informed me that Father was no longer there to grant whatever I wished. Lacrecia wanted me to come to all the social events we would attend as a family. The last event happened last month and many people had had a pleasant surprise seeing me. Alva the recluse. Well, she was no longer a recluse because of her stepmother.  
  
Besides, I had been the receiving end of many of Lacrecia's subtle threats too frequently. Of course there was that constant masked detestation, but detestation nonetheless, in her eyes whenever she spoke with me, and she had always reminded me that she was the mistress of the manor. She never failed to imply that she could get rid of me in a snap, me being just the first biologically orphaned daughter of her late second husband. And I did not intend to challenge her any longer. I knew that no great harm would come to me if I did attend such social functions, so why should I risk something—albeit subtle and imprecise—for something that I must admit could do some good to me?  
  
Caroline jumped up from her chair happily. She, unlike me, loved balls. She was a graceful dancer and loved flaunting it. "Mama! How divine! We must come there in our best!"  
  
Lacrecia was smiling ecstatically like her. "Yes my sweet Caroline. And you will snatch the hearts of their Majesties! You must look marvelous for this event."  
  
I glanced at Edith, who really didn't care. "Another beauty pageant." I heard her whisper to herself.  
  
My stepmother acted as if Caroline and she were the only ones in the room. Edith and I were just part of the wall. Ever since Caroline turned sixteen, she had been driven to almost every social event that had happened. She had already been introduced to a wide range of eligible bachelors, from ducal heirs to young rich barons; every single one of them. But Lacrecia was never satisfied with the "pawns of royalty" as she had so often deemed them be. My stepmother was determined to give her the best marriage possible, and her target was the prince.  
  
Edith was seventeen, yet Lacrecia did not take as much pains into her exposure as Caroline's. My stepmother was quite satisfied with Edith being introduced to some but not all. Before, it was beyond me to fathom the inner workings of my stepmother's mind, but I once overheard Lacrecia telling Caroline Edith was too docile and silent. Society wanted either vivacious, witty, beautiful women (which might be what she wanted Caroline to be although it was nigh impossible) or shy, silent, innocent beautiful women. Edith fell on neither category; her shyness, silence, and innocence to the point of exasperation and peculiarity. She was beautiful, indeed, but her beauty was not enough to compensate for the damage her exaggerated traits had done. But this was not Lacrecia's only reason. Despite Edith's overstated personality, someone did fine her extremely pleasing to the eye as well as the constitution. I had heard that he was a rather prosperous baron, not to poor to be ignored, and at the prime of his life at thirty and eight. He had had his eye on her ever since Edith was first introduced to society. "If things go well, you will have a brother-in-law by the end of the year," Lacrecia told Caroline one day, but they had not intended for me to overhear.  
  
She never spoke about me, as far as I knew. I also didn't hear any kind of admiration or courtship from other members of society, more so from suitors. Lacrecia didn't have plans on me, probably because she knew it would be hard to make me comply, or I was an impossible case with no hope at all. Neither reason seemed appropriate in my circumstance. I didn't care if I were to grow into an old maid, a spinster. If I would be, then I would be a respected erudite woman not common in this time. Matrimony itself was not such a terrible idea, especially if the one you would marry actually loved you and you loved in return. In addition, the thought of having Lacrecia preside over the matchmaking was enough to discourage me. She would probably make sure I would be miserable, and insist I marry a bastard I didn't love, and whom did not love me in return. I wanted someone who could respect me beyond my face, whose affections were triggered more with what I felt and what I though about. But such a man was nigh impossible to find. Men wanted to have beautiful creatures for their wives, not enlightened ones. I never thought myself beautiful, but I did think I qualified for one to be enlightened. Unfortunately for Lacrecia, it was not a quality that the majority desired.  
  
"In this masque...I want you to be a fairy," I heard my stepmother say to Caroline. I snorted at the idea of Caroline being a fairy. She was not a fairy. Quite the contrary. An imp was more like it. "Edith...you be...a gypsy, perhaps?" Edith nodded without reaction. She suddenly was aware of my presence in the room. "Ah...Alva, my dear. I trust that you can think of something for yourself."  
  
It was always like this. She never prioritized me; it was always her daughters. If I were kidnapped then murdered, she would have me buried without batting an eyelash. She would probably say, "Goodness gracious, look at that carcass on our doorstep. Too bad we wouldn't have Alva to entertain us with her horrified face." Then she would have me buried without realizing I was Alva. The only reason why she kept me was because I was her deceased second husband's daughter.  
  
I knew there was not a space in her heart for me, yet I also knew that there was a space in her mind that said "Keep Alva in the manor." Everybody knew of Lord Martin and Lady Fiala's book-loving reclusive daughter. They knew I was alive and living in my own manor. If I were to disappear suddenly, people would be suspicious of my stepfamily's courtesies towards me. Nothing matters more to Lacrecia than reputation. That was the most logical reason I could come up with on why Lacrecia insisted I join such celebrations. She wanted everyone to see that I was treated like her daughter—which was not true.  
  
I didn't care a lot about clothes unlike my stepsister Caroline. Caroline cared about everything she wore, to the smallest bead on the toe of her shoe. She would spent hours in front of her vanity, pampering her face and hair, and adding voluminous amounts to—what else?—her vanity. Edith was one who never showed her true nature, but it was apparent to me that her narcissism needed as much primping up as her hair. The mirror was Edith's best friend, whilst it was Caroline's lover.  
  
The next day, Lacrecia took us all shopping. All her attention was poured to Caroline and Edith. She insisted on buying this and that from every possible merchant. She didn't leave any care for me, and I didn't mind the least. The choices were all mine, not hers, and my liberty was safe. She gave me a decent amount of money to buy whatever I needed. She bid me to deposit my buys to our coach driver, Samuel, and go to the castle afterwards. If I could manage, I should just return to the manor. Then she left me all alone in the marketplace and shopped with her daughters. She tried to flatter me with her excuse. "You are already intelligent enough to know what to wear, so I leave it all to you," she said to me.  
  
I already had something in my mind. I wanted a pure white gown with silver hems. The mask would cover my whole face. The mask would be porcelain and molded with human features. There would be holes for the eyes. The slippers would probably be white also; although wouldn't be seen. I found all of my needs quickly, since no one was in my way. My outfit was modeled after the past Queen Regina. Her trademark gown was white and silver with a low neckline and beaded bodice. My gown fitted the description nicely. I just hoped that the people at the masque would see that I tried to be Queen Regina. After all, in masques you shouldn't be your true self.  
  
Our carriage was near so I gave my packages to Samuel. I told him that I would return to the manor on my own; it wasn't very far.  
  
Time was beside me when I decided to visit the castle gardens. I admit that I had been cooped up in Arden for a long time already, and had missed many changes in my own kingdom. My lingering and wandering presence in the castle grounds wouldn't be a surprise. Though I had been missing a great deal of social affairs, I was still fed (albeit unintentionally) about the society of Tryla by the wagging tongue of Caroline and Lacrecia. Gratitude should be given for their gossiping tendencies, or else I would have been completely naïve.  
  
The last time I visited the castle grounds was when I was eleven, before the Mother's disease had taken a great toll on her health. The only difference from my eleven-year old experience from my present experience was the slight nuances in fashion and landscape. Many courtiers were walking around, enjoying themselves. The couples were grouped together, either just strolling or conversing. Their noble blood was apparent with their rich gowns and tunics of silk and stone. I could see courtiers in every direction, all laughing and talking. No one was alone except me. I was probably the only one who didn't have a friend with me. No matter. I didn't want to declare my presence anyway.  
  
If I were lucky, Queen Emmaline would be present in the grounds. She spent a great deal of her time socializing with her courtiers, eager to make a harmonious relationship. King Raymond was most likely inside his castle managing his kingdom. He was seldom seen in the gardens, engrossed as he was in maintaining the glorious peace and order Tryla had been experiencing since the reign of King Landon. The crown-prince Eric was in random places, as usual. I had heard from Caroline that no one was really able to point out exactly where he enjoys himself. This was precisely why she had not yet been introduced to him because she was not able to plot his activities. Princesses Penelope and Rosena were probably cavorting with young men. They were always so flirty. If they weren't with their men, then they would be with their mother.  
  
The prime flowers in the gardens were roses. There was one of every color. Red, white, pink, yellow...but I didn't like it much. Once, I was in the marketplace, I saw roses that were the color blue and lavender. They were rare flowers found only in northern regions.  
  
The strange thing about courtiers was that they stare at you for so many times. I was walking around, enjoying my freedom, and there they were, looking at me with expressions I couldn't read. They knew about my existence—impossibly not because of the wagging tongues I had set alive—but they couldn't possibly recognize me; I was almost never out. But my face not triggering a memory in them must have been the one that set me apart from all the other nobles.  
  
"I daresay, is that Lady Alva? Lord Martin and Lady Fiala's book-loving daughter?" I heard a lady whisper to her friend when I passed by her.  
  
Her lady friend nodded, her eyes nailed firmly on me. "Pretty little thing. Sadly, she had not acquired her mother's famous charisma."  
  
"You cannot possibly tell just by looking at her," her friend chided. "You haven't spoken with her a' tall, so how can you say she is bereft from these qualities?"  
  
I would have stopped and said, "Yes, you are correct. How can she know?" But then, that would brand me an eavesdropper. I was already the recluse book-loving daughter of Lord Martin and Lady Fiala. The last thing I needed was "eavesdropper" to be added.  
  
The gardens were like mazes, only that you know where you should go. The hedges weren't that tall. There were topiaries. But I didn't care about that. I wanted to go to the most special place: The Garden Heart of Tryla. But when I reached the place, I couldn't get in. The gates leading to the inner gardens were bolted shut. When I looked up though, I could see the head of one of the statues. I couldn't understand why the gardens were closed; The Garden Heart of Tryla had always been open for the public. But then, a throng of gardeners must be in the inner gardens. Maybe that was why it was closed, because it was being tended to and disturbance was not needed.  
  
I sighed. I might see it during the masque yet I wouldn't have all the time.  
  
The return to the manor was easy. I just cut through the forest and I was home. I was there earlier than my stepfamily.  
  
Lacrecia and Caroline were beaming. They were every excited for the masque.  
  
~*~  
  
Caroline twirled in front of the full-length mirror. We three sisters were in the dressing rooms, preparing for the ball. Our maids, Barbara, Cathy, and Rosamund were scurrying about, making sure that every curl was perfect, every crease unnoticeable, and every bead in place—well, at least Cathy and Rosamund were. Caroline was already done with her garb but Rosamund was still doing finishing touches on her already faultless hair. Edith's hair was being fixed by Cynthia.  
  
"Oh, Alva, let me help you," Barbara said. She had already helped me to put on my gown. I couldn't let her get tired because of my vanities.  
  
"It's alright, Barbara," I answered. "Rest now. You have done me great help already! I can do this by myself."  
  
She nodded. I kissed her cheek. "Good night now, Barbara! I'll see you when we return!"  
  
My hair was in a simple braid with interlocking silver ribbons. It was a trick my mother used on me before. My black hair was nice in contrast to the gleaming ribbon. My hair was rather long and reached below my shoulder blades.  
  
Caroline's hair was curly and attractive. Barrettes were holding it in place. It nigh made her look like a little girl. Her gown was evergreen with golden trimmings. It was off-shouldered with bell-sleeves. She did look like a fairy. Her mask made it even more believable. It was a deep green like her gown but flowers and vines were painted on it. The only thing lacking was a pair of translucent rainbow wings.  
  
Edith on the other looked vivacious and exotic, very different from her true nature. Her gown was red like her hair with gold hems. Her mask was painted only gold. Her hair was in a half-ponytail and was finished off with beads. She looked at me with observing eyes. For a second, I thought they glinted with admiration.  
  
I looked at myself and knew they were much better off than me. Caroline would surely lure young men to dance with her and Edith would be in a corner surrounded. I, on the other hand, would be happy and free without any burden. I had no great beauty to speak of, and the last thing I needed were people telling me half-truths. Besides, what would a pretty face be compared to an intellectual mind? This was certainly the case on me.  
  
When Lacrecia came to the dressing room, she almost spilled tears when she saw Caroline. I was in a corner, reading another book and not caring. But then, I observed, of course.  
  
"You are positively divine!" Lacrecia gushed. She went to Edith and said, "You are dazzling!" She returned to Caroline again. She fingered my older sister's clothes gingerly. "Caroline, my dear you are celestial!"  
  
I bit my lip as the painful reminder of my mother entered my consciousness. I bit harder, not caring if it bled. I poured all my attention on the book and tried to put all my thoughts into it. It was a historical fictional novel about migration from Etenod to Tryla. The lead was a young girl. It hinted a slight romance but the story didn't focus much on it. The young girl was molested by her own father because of her beauty, and because her father loved her too much. She decided to run away from Etenod to Tryla where she vowed to find mental and spiritual salvation from Etenod. It fit my reticule perfectly. It was a rather small book and it was not thick because it focused on the more important factors. The letters were also very miniscule.  
  
Lacrecia turned her interests to me. "Why...Alva. I didn't recognize you for a moment."  
  
"Maybe because you hardly look at me," I replied sarcastically. But I smiled at her, in an attempt to mollify my words if so ever she found it offensive.  
  
She smiled back but didn't say anything. She didn't say if I was beautiful or ravishing, or whatever adjective synonymous to beautiful she could come up with. It was clear that she preferred her daughters over me. But that certainly wasn't a new occurrence. At the back of my mind, I wondered if what she said was a compliment or otherwise.  
  
She then ushered us to the carriage, which was waiting outside. Caroline was still fussing with her gown and appearance. Edith just looked out the window.  
  
"Caroline, my dear, this day is the day you will be a step closer to the ultimate dais of the future queen of Tryla," I heard Lacrecia tell her in a muted voice. It was too dark for her to see me rolling my eyes.  
  
When we arrived in the castle, there were already many people. People were greeting guests and escorting them inside. We were helped out of the carriage by two men. I caught them ogling at one of us, although I didn't know who. Caroline, for certain. My sisters' masks were already worn. Lacrecia didn't plan to wear a mask. She just decided to come wearing thick makeup. I didn't want to wear mine yet. The mask made my face hot. I should have thought more about purchasing a full-faced mask.  
  
The place where the masque was held was breathtaking. Many tapestries depicted different scenes. The tapestries were stories. One was of King Nardo, the first king. One was evidently about the Rosean war. My knowledge in history helped me understand the woven tales, unlike other people who just admire the physique.  
  
There were people dancing. I decided not to join them. I was ungraceful. Mother and Father said I wasn't but if they were true, I wouldn't like dancing very much. I only watched. Some people were already eating. I didn't. I just ate at home and it would be awhile before I was hungry again. Besides, my mask made it hard. Why ever did I buy it?  
  
The moment we stepped in, young men offered their hands to us. They wanted to dance. Caroline smiled flirtatiously and accepted. Edith didn't care; she was whisked away to the crowd. I shook my head. I still didn't want to dance. The expression on the young man's face made me feel guilty. If he asks again, accept it. I made a mental note on my head.  
  
Since I was already I the castle, I decided to wander about. This was the chance I had to visit the Garden Heart of Tryla!  
  
In Tryla, we believe that the rulers were the hearts of this kingdom. Without them, we would cease to live. We value our rulers for they were all just and respectable. The Garden Heart of Tryla was believed to be in the middle of all Tryla. In the garden were great many statues dating back from the very beginning of Tryla. The statues were the replicas of the former kings and queens of Tryla. The death of a sovereign meant the making of this statue in commemoration. Statues were never made while the sovereign was alive. It was believed that if the statue was made while the ruler was still alive, the ruler would be taken out of his or her time.  
  
There was also a column in the four sides with clocks. It indicated that time had a direction. As the saying goes "Time is a current, and we are those who go along."  
  
I was the only one who was there. There were lights that illuminated the surroundings, making the faces of the statues real and animate. It was strange that I was the only one there. I had it on good account that many people visited this garden. It seemed that a lot of people prefer dancing over looking at the faces of their dead monarchs.  
  
When I got there, a rush of happiness came to me. I was standing in the middle of Tryla! I was in the heart of my own kingdom, and that I couldn't ignore.  
  
The statues were arranged in chronological order so when I looked up, I saw the fierce face of King Nardo. He was the first known king of Tryla and he was the one who made us prosperous. The statue didn't look old because it was often reconstructed. Next to him was his Queen Seema. She was plain looking yet there was something about her features that made known she was a queen.  
  
I walked along the statues while looking at the nameplates. Many names were already emblazoned on the plates, forever preserved for future generations. The names were already etched in my mind long before this particular moment, a result of boredom or mere love of Tryla. The statues were supposed to be proportionate to the height of the ruler it represented. So if I was about thrice my size, I would be as tall as one of the statues. It was a bit intimidating, walking beside gigantic statues that looked down upon you like omnipotent beings. But nonetheless, it was still exciting to be in a place that had existed for such a long time.  
  
As I made my rounds, I noticed the one statue that made me stop completely. It was dated approximately five decades ago. She was said to be a tall woman when she was still alive, and her statue was almost as tall as the king beside her. Our Trylan sculptors did their best to make these statues as lifelike as possible, and with the light playing the features of the statue, she never looked more human. Her chin was tilted up, her lips in a proud smile.  
  
"Queen Regina," someone behind me said unpredictably that I almost jumped in surprise. I turned. It was a young man, probably near my age. I studied him dispassionately. The only feature that was seen with his mask on was his dark auburn hair, in contrast with my black locks. He was very much taller than me, about a head taller. It was not because he was just tall; it was also because I was quite petite. He grinned. He was probably making up for his rudeness.  
  
"Yes, Queen Regina," I replied, not bothered.  
  
He walked next to me. "Queen Regina, and am I looking at her apparition?  
  
He grinned and I laughed. "I'm quite flattered to know that my masquerade is very effective and believable. I thank you, sir, for your unfailing observation. Yes, I dressed up like her. But I applaud you for recognizing such a garb. Not a lot of people know this is her preferred kind of gown."  
  
"Although I do agree with you that her fashion is not famous, I believe it is for the better. After all, Queen Regina should be known for her truly exceptional reign, and not the immaculacy of her favorite gowns." I nodded with a smile, a remnant of his earlier humor. He continued, "The widowed queen. It is a great honor for her to be placed without her husband so near, unlike the other queens."  
  
Queen Regina was different. When her husband died, she took over as ruler and reigned for ten years, until her son was old enough to do so. She made Tryla a lot different, more thriving. Politically, she had advanced the Rosean peace treaty into an alliance that secured both kingdoms from foreign animosities. But she had contributed greatly in the field of the humanities and academics. Rivalries between local nobles were solved, because she gave her time and consideration in the matters. She valued education and believed that no Trylan should be deprived of it. More public libraries were constructed, and these libraries were open to both noble and commoner. Her patronage over the arts encouraged nobles to be patrons themselves, and in turn encouraged artists to enhance their skill. Because of her, many art galleries were opened, with works of art that would not be gracing the pages of history were it not for her. Concerts were more prevalent, and soon, Tryla rivaled Rosea as a kingdom bearing musical virtuosos. Her reign opened the pathways to peace and prosperity, to be strengthened with the reign of her son, King Landon.  
  
"It is unfair that queens cannot stand alone while kings can stand without their queens," I said, more to myself than him. "And great obstacles should be breached before independence could be attained."  
  
He looked at me strangely. "Why do you say so?"  
  
"Queen Regina stands alone in front of us because she broke the rules of conformity," I answered him immediately, not caring that my views could marvelously scandalize him. "She didn't care what others thought. She was not the ordinary woman whose use is in the home and kitchen. She was great, but she was not entirely accepted. The queens you see with their husbands are the normal average women who are satisfied with their current position. I do not mean to insult my past sovereigns but conformity sometimes does harm," I explained. I was expecting him to say something like "Women just sit and look pretty" or "Reserve your knowledge for making up patterns for your embroidery."  
  
He nodded. "It is true. Sadly true. But women today are not like the women five decades ago. They have choices to do what they wish. It's different now than before. Conformity is unavoidable. One cannot truly break away from it. The society is always there to scrutinize."  
  
"But it took twenty years after her death before her wishes were actually seen to. Must women wait for twenty more years to truly do what they wish? Till now, women are not encouraged to be educated."  
  
He gazed at me mischievously. "You, milady, seem to be educated enough for my standards. And I happen to notice that you kept your mask while speaking with me," he told me.  
  
I raised my eyebrows, although of course he didn't see. "You, sir, are a hypocrite. How can you expect me to take off my mask when you yourself have not?" I smiled. Then I took off my mask. I curtsied. "I am sorry sir, for I have been rude. I am Alva of Rista."  
  
He bowed. He took of his mask. "I have heard of you, Lady Alva. Lord Martin and Lady Fiala's book-loving daughter."  
  
He had forgotten reclusive. "The miracles of chattering courtiers," I replied sarcastically. But I didn't see the supercilious expression I got whenever I introduced myself. Those expressions lasted only for merely a second, but I sincerely did not see anything on him. I suddenly stared at him. He looked familiar, but I haven't been in court since I was eleven. I got to meet my sovereigns, since Father was a prominent figure. I realized who he was, in a flash. "I am sorry, your Majesty, Prince Eric. I didn't recognize you since I haven't been in Court for a long time."  
  
He took my hand and motioned me to stand up. "It's no bother, really. It is a pleasure to talk with you. You are a pleasant conversationalist."  
  
"But your Highness...I insulted your ancestors," I said. "I am sorry."  
  
"It didn't enter my mind that you insulted my ancestors," he said so casually that I doubted if he was an imposter or no.  
  
I eased up a bit. I insulted his ancestors! My tongue was uncontrollable. Prince Eric was two years older than me and more educated. I noticed that I was fidgeting with the cloth of my gown whilst he was hardly disturbed. Well, why should he be? He was the one who shouldn't be nervous with a noble. He experienced this every day of his life! I had never been this close to a sovereign!  
  
But I couldn't let my anxiety show. I didn't want him to think that I was another lady hopelessly enamored by him. A smile played on my lips. "Where did you hear my reputation? Your Majesty?" I asked. I wanted to see if he would say something about my other reputation aside from books.  
  
"From courtiers. But it is impossible to look over a girl like you, even if she doesn't inspire a few untrue tales. It would be a change to speak with someone who could conjure a meaningful conversation." His face didn't change. He was still smiling. The disdain I had received so often in the past was not there.  
  
"And I suppose you don't believe that women are but mere decorations?" I asked him. Then I quickly added, "Your Highness."  
  
"I don't believe that. I know that men and women have equal capabilities to achieving their ambitions. It's just the men use these capabilities and women..." He tried to find another way to break it to me gently. But pounced on his statement before he could say anything.  
  
"It's not their fault!" I found myself retorting strongly. "Conventionality deprives them of the capability. Yes, they can, but with everybody disapproving the woman's every action it is enough to dishearten the ambitions."  
  
He managed to lighten my mood. "And you seem not to be disheartened."  
  
"I cannot afford to be." He was charming, or maybe he was trying to charm me.  
  
"It is not about approval or disapproval. I suppose it is also up to the views of the person. If she regards highly the thoughts of society, then she is incapable of breaking the rules of conventionality thus remaining stagnant, unable to do what one wishes. If she does not regard highly the reactions of society towards her actions, then she can move forward and achieve that ambition," he told me.  
  
"It depends, I believe. But if everybody would stop disapproving then maybe there wouldn't be a hindrance in the first place. We do not live in Etenod where people are treated according to their statuses. People there are maltreated and abused by the higher orders. It is not so in Tryla but due to the edicts bestowed by the impermissible society, it is almost as binding. Cannot we improve it a bit?"  
  
He was thoughtful suddenly, and I feared that I spoke too much. "We could, but with other things that bear a heavier strain and in much need of constant improvement, it would difficult. There is always something to improve in this world. Why? Because we are people and we live in an imperfect world."  
  
Before I could bite my tongue, I said: "But that doesn't mean that we shouldn't try and make this a more bearable world than the insufferable one that we might have."  
  
"It is not about perfecting but improving, milady." He changed the subject. "Where do you get these ideas of yours? You are one remarkable young woman. If women are but decorations, then you disprove that statement."  
  
I felt blood rising to my cheeks. No one really commended me like that and it meant more because it came from a prince.  
  
"What do you expect, your Majesty? I am, after all, the book-loving daughter."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Of course," he replied with a grin. "What books do you read? Let me guess, that thing bulging from your reticule is a small book that concerns issues."  
  
I glanced at my reticule. True, the book was not small enough to be invisible. I brought the book out. He took it and smiled when he saw the title.  
  
"To Flee," he quoted the title of the book. "This is a controversial manuscript you are carrying in your reticule. It's about run-away young ladies, crime, passion, discrimination, salvation, politics... This is not a book to be read by young people. It may not be a long novel but within it are views that are hard to fathom. I have heard that this was actually banned in Etenod. He fingered my book once again. He opened the page where my bookmark was. "Quite an enthusiastic reader you are, for having reached this point while others had stopped because of tediousness. This is the part when the young lady Maysun escapes from her father." He looked at me closely. "Aren't you too young for this?"  
  
"Aren't you too young for it?" I retorted immediately, annoyed that age had to be a criteria for enjoying fine literature. "I assume you've read it since you know what happens. You're only two years older than me and it doesn't make much difference."  
  
He gave me back my book. "You are right. No one is too young to read anything. It depends on what suits you. I've read every kind of book there is because it is mandatory for my education. I favor humor though. It lightens up everything that I have to face every day!" We both laughed.  
  
"My humor is bland. I am sarcastic and I love it. History is more of my forte. I little bit of philosophy maybe."  
  
"I envy your intellect. You are young yet you read books that are fit for adults. When we return to the masque, do you promise me your first and last dance?" We started walking back to the masque. We had stayed outside longer than any of us had expected.  
  
How could I decline to the prince, a charming and educated young man who understood my views unlike other people? 


	4. III

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews!! ÜÜÜ I'm really sorry that the chapters could be a bit long…hehe you see, this work is already divided into chapters… thanks for all the criticisms!!! I hope you like this chapter!

~*~

"They were all wondering who that lady was. She was dancing with the prince for a lot of times. She never took off her mask, so no one knew who she was. There were many theories. She was a princess from another kingdom, a clandestine lover, a gypsy ensorcelling him, or probably a vision of the late Queen Regina. But then, I don't have to wonder, do I?" Caroline glared at me from across the room. 

We were in the solarium, the day after the masque. There, Lacrecia and Caroline proceeded in questioning my acquaintance with the prince. Each question was biting and tinge with malice. They had taken some of the theories to heart, theories that I hardly found amusing and believable. They were all impossible. But I couldn't understand their panic. If he weren't the prince, maybe things would be different. But he was, but they did me a great injustice thinking that I would go that far just to spite them. The mere thought of it gave me shivers up my spine. 

"His Majesty and I just got along fine, Caroline. Why do you worry anyway?" I answered.

Caroline flipped her hair over her shoulder, a gesture she recently used to say that she was annoyed. "Nothing much. You just might steal him away from me. That's why." 

She glared at me when I laughed. "Excuse me? I have no interest whatsoever." 

Lacrecia interrupted before our little spat got out of control. "Alva, it is terribly sad that you didn't see Caroline have a spectacular time with Prince Eric." 

But Caroline didn't seem to acknowledge her own mother. My stepsister laughed at me mockingly. "Don't try to fool me. I'm smart enough to safely conclude that no one can resist our Prince."

My stepmother glanced at me with an expression enough to stop a herd of stampeding bulls. But not I. "I guess your cranial capacity is too small to accommodate my existence," I snapped rather calmly. "I'm not one of those women." 

Her blond hair shook when she threw her head back and giggled. She was still wearing that scornful smile she always wore in front of me. "You are kidding me, you lout," she retorted in a harsh tone. "No one can resist his charms, especially a _harlot_ like you." 

I stopped reading my book. "I am not about to stay here and be verbally abused by a _wench_ like her." My voice was quiet, yet my fury was evident. My stepfamily turned their attention to Caroline but Caroline was still glaring at me. "May I please be excused?" 

 "Before you go, Alva I do not want you using _that_ word. I will not have this house plagued by dirty-mouthed young ladies because of you," Lacrecia chastised. She stood up and approached me with her brows knotted and her lips in a sneer.

I raised my eyebrow. All these weeks of treatment had taught me that I should never let Lacrecia see that her disposition towards me had any effect. "And Caroline? Aren't you going to reprimand her?" Caroline's head snapped to Lacrecia's direction. I could see her pleading blue eyes. Then she faced me with ignited yet contained rage. 

Lacrecia's stone face did not change at all. There was still that glowering look on her face, and the sneer of her lips. "What about Caroline? Unlike you, Alva, Caroline had not once uttered one vulgar word from such obscene language." 

It was normal. Lacrecia always favored Caroline over me. If Caroline and I committed the same crime, she would let Caroline go without a sermon and I would stay for a tirade that would last a lifetime. I decided not to merit her words with a reply. What was the point? I would only be wasting energy and time.

"May I please be excused?" I asked, more pressing and insistent. 

"And where do you think you're going?" she demanded in a haughty tone.

I rolled my eyes. "Since when did it ever matter to you?" I wanted to say, but such words would merit more scorn from her. And the last thing I needed was give Lacrecia more reasons to detain me. "A place that would not interest you, Lacrecia. Why do you ask?"

"You shall not question my inquiries, Alva," she snapped, her voice biting at my name. "Where are you going?" 

"I am going to the riverside," I answered truthfully this time. "Now, may I—" I started to say but was cut back with Lacrecia's laugh, followed inevitably by Caroline's giggles.

I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath. "Pray tell, what is so amusing?" I asked.

Lacrecia grinned. "Riverside?" she repeated with mocking. "The riverside is no place for a lady, but then, I hardly consider you one. No wonder society was quite hard on you before." 

"Whether I am a lady or not, is not by far your concern. So I advise you not to burden with yourselves with apprehension on my behalf," I answered as calmly as I could.

"Apprehension, I am not burdening myself with. Although I am lavish with my pity for you." Her face was contorted with mocking compassion. Her frown was exaggerated now, forced and glued into place. The glaring eyes were still so, but now there was amusement and irritation combined with her loath.

"Then accompany the said pity with action, and mollify my miserable state by giving me your permission to cease bothering you, or your daughter."

Lacrecia smirked at me, and crossed her arms over her breast. "I will excuse your _disgusting_ display of etiquette for now, Alva, and allow you leave."

I didn't have the grace to thank her.

Edith then awoke from her open-eyed slumber, and shook her head. She looked at me with so much compassion, that I wondered if she was trying to insult me by copying Lacrecia. But strangely, it seemed genuine, although unbelievable nonetheless. 

Caroline eyed me suspiciously.

"If you think I'm going because I'm going to meet with the prince then you're wrong. You can eat him alive for all I care," I retorted before she could open her mouth.

I stormed out of the solarium before one of them could say anything. But before I could reach the door, I heard Lacrecia say, "Caroline do remember that the proper etiquette of a lady is to not speak unless she is expected to do so." I knew she wasn't really addressing Caroline; she was addressing me.

What was it about etiquette? I was taught in finishing school that etiquette was a must. But I really didn't think so. Must one follow the rules of etiquette if it bound that person from doing what she wished? 

I wasn't planning on following those rules. I already knew what I should do and how I should behave. 

Next to our manor was a forest. My childhood years consisted of exploring every inch of that forest and spending some quiet time there. If I told some people this, they would have me locked up in a cellar to "protect" me from the "evils" there. I was told in finishing school that the forest was no place for a lady, but a place for men and servants, if you weren't in any of the categories and you were a lady, you were considered crazy. 

I wasn't crazy, and I could protect myself. If harm would befall me, I would not stand there waiting for my knight in shining armor to come like any other damsel in distress. I would probably throw stones at it, or do any kind of desperate action just to get it off my back. If anyone knew this, they would lock me up in a loony bin. These days, women were either at home, at Court, or at a studio patronizing an artist, and definitely not in the woods throwing stones. 

I was carrying my book bag that I used back in my finishing school days. Inside were books, as always. There was also a notebook and pencil. I often wrote stories or drew pictures. Although many might assume it was a diary, it had never been one, nor did I intend it to be. I could never write a diary because it bored me easily. I couldn't write for a week straight. It was simply a waste of paper.

There were many paths in the forest that lead to everywhere. I always used the path to the river that ran through the woods. It was the most tranquil place. The birds sang their music all throughout the day. The sound of water flowing was enough to soothe my senses. The winds had always been kind to this place, sending zephyrs instead of sharp gusts of air. Sometimes, when I had the chance, I would take off my shoes and wade in the water. Etiquette didn't exist in this place! I could run without care, lift my skirt past my knees, and scream with all my heart's desire, and there be no finishing school mistress or Lacrecia or some other priggish person to appear and try to hold the reigns of my liberty.

My eyes needed some rest from reading. Instead of taking out a book, I took out my notebook and pencil. I sat down on the ground, propped the notebook on my knee, and focused on something to draw. 

I caught a glimpse of the books that fell out of my bag. _To Flee _was one of them. Another was a book about eastern philosophy. The other one was a collection of fairytales. I didn't know how it got there. I must have forgotten to clean up the bag. 

There was a nice scene ahead of me. It was a stretch of water cut short by land. I decided to sketch that. I sharpened my pencil and started. I started first on the basic ones, the water and the land. I decided to go to the smaller details later. 

I heard horse hooves. Many travelers go to this river to give their horses water. And although many were under the impression that I was a recluse, I was actually not because of the wide variety of people I had come across in this spot. There were millers, carpenters, travelers from different lands. Each experience with them was a delight, mainly because each experience made me learn something new. A Misethan savant came before. His horse was exhausted from a day of traveling, and he made her rest for quite some time. At that period, we met, and he, in need of some scholarly activity, taught me how to write my name in Misethan. Once, I met a gypsy fortuneteller who, in exchange for a drawing, read my fortune through cards. She said that my life should be written in a book as fiction because it was unexpected and beautiful. I wished it would be so. I wanted something more from my ordinary life, where my activities were scheduled. Sleep, eat, do something to entertain yourself, family time in the solarium, teatime, get away from the philippics of Lacrecia and the insults of Caroline, eat, sleep. It ran all day without stopping, unless there was an important event like a masque. A boy—the pig-keeper's assistant—had come to the river from the village. He told me stories about the escapades of his fellow villagers. 

Most of the people I met were quite the ordinary and there were no nobles at all. But today was no exception. Not nobility, but someone excruciatingly higher than that.

"Lady Alva?" I looked up. It was his Majesty, riding his horse. He was look at me with confusion, probably wondering what I was doing there. I was looking at him with confusion also, wondering what he was doing there too. Shouldn't he be in a place where sovereigns discussed social and political issues or were surrounded by fawning admirers? 

Oh right, I remembered grimly, no one _did _know where he went during the day. Then, I remembered the etiquette I should follow. I immediately stood up, dusted the dirt of my skirt, and curtsied deeply. 

Now my time was ruined by his arrival. I would soon have to be polite and not do anything that would make me ignore ergo insult him. The reason why I disliked people who commanded respect was because of the behavior you had to have towards them. Each move of mine should be closely monitored and carefully thought about around authorities, especially sovereigns. I was never one for the rulebook, and I disliked having to follow priggish rules. People should be treated as people and, sovereigns were people.

"Your Majesty," I said. It should always be like that. My voice was almost inaudible. When I was suddenly aware of the volume of my voice, I stopped and scolded myself in my mind.

In finishing school, we were taught to have a certain volume of voice while speaking with a sovereign. The volume was almost inaudible to suggest gentleness and docility. Aside from the fact that it was insulting to me because I was rather a loudmouth, it was detrimental to the conversation. The person I would have to be speaking with in an inaudible voice would most likely be too polite to ask repeatedly what I had said because he couldn't hear properly. Pretty soon, the two of us would be talking but not in the same topic _because we couldn't hear each other_. This preposterousness was demanded of me while I was in finishing school, but no, I would not speak to his Highness in an indistinct voice! I was insulting myself for actually allowing myself to be affected by those unreasonable teachings!

He dismounted his horse and led him to drink. "What, may I ask, are you doing here? And your attendants, where are they?" 

"I didn't think they were necessary. I find this particular spot a place where I find solace, your Highness." He must live in a closed world. I began to pity him, thinking that he always thought that ladies were all the same. There were many ladies who didn't go places without their own band of maids attending to their every need. I wasn't one of them. 

He left his horse to drink and faced me. "I agree with you. Solace, without a doubt. I am fortunate that my horse had stumbled upon a sanctuary." He gestured at his black stallion. I couldn't help but gawk at the splendid horse, which was all muscle yet lean and slim. He was made for speed and none of that nonsense carriage-pulling. "Nodnal has this propensity for finding different secluded spot every day, and refusing to leave nonviolently until after an hour." 

I couldn't help but approach his horse, and touch the fine hair on his neck. "He is beautiful, your Highness," I said. Then the name puzzled me. _NodnaI__?_"Did you, perchance, name your horse after your own ancestor?" 

He tried to look as innocent as possible, and it amused me that this was Prince Eric! He grinned, not helping himself. "Yes, I did. I commend you for your anagrammatic skills." 

"I wish to point out that hardly any skill is used to find that out," I replied with a laugh, losing myself. "The name was just inverted, and since you were related to him, I assumed it was not coincidental." 

He grinned and said, "Brilliant nonetheless." He looked curiously at me. "What were you doing?" 

I gave Nodnal one last pat on the neck and gestured at my things. I resisted the urge to smirk at him. He was royalty but did he have the right to nosy about my doings? I think not! "Nothing that would interest you, your Highness." 

"But," he walked to me, "I find your doings very interesting, Lady Alva." 

I raised my eyebrow. Was he trying to flirt with me? I dared not to ponder on the answer.  It made me wonder how my doings interested him. It was strange because we only met just yesterday. "Well, if you truly wish to know, I had been sketching the scenery."

Without my approval, he bent down to look at my notebook. Then he said: "It's good. Have you tried studying painting?" 

"Of course!" I replied, and then I snatched my notebook away from him, not caring whether he would behead me for such action. "I'm afraid this notebook is in fact for my eyes only. I have tried painting. I enjoy it more than sketching. I was taught in finishing school." 

He laughed. "Finishing school? Is that the place where ladies are put to their place? I find that useless." 

"Our sentiments then are quite similar," I answered while stuffing my notebook into my bag. "But I have to learn that firsthand. How come we ladies must be taught to be ladies, when men are not taught to be men?" I realized that I was challenging him with another one of my impertinent questions. But he didn't seem to be annoyed. Actually, he was grinning. 

"I guess you don't know that it is included in my studies, and the studies of my fellow students. Unfortunately, I also study the manner of every kingdom I might visit." He sat down on the ground, and I followed. "If you cannot bear to learn the etiquette of your own kingdom, what more if you needed to learn about ten more?" he asked.

It was unnerving to be beside him. I didn't know how I was supposed to act. Should I act on my own will, or follow the "proper way" according to finishing school? Should I treat him as my prince, or should I treat him as a normal person? Should I keep standing while he was sitting, or should I sit down before he did? 

I hated finishing school but I still pondered whether I should follow the edicts taught. I never gave importance to it but right manner was important too. Unfortunately, to me, finishing school had a twisted sense of right manner. 

"I can't blame you. The thought of studying so many rules simply appalls me." It would truly help if I thought him a normal person, and not my prince. Shouldn't I remain I suitable distance away from him? "But then, it is needed to show proper courtesy towards others. Although, too much is indeed too much."

He nodded. "You don't follow much of the etiquette of this kingdom," he responded. Then he added: "But it is alright. It's much better." 

"Why do you think so?" 

He either didn't hear my question or just refused to answer it because he changed the subject. "Aren't you suppose to be at home, drinking tea or whatever you should be doing?" he said it so informally, again, that I was beginning to wonder if he were an imposter.

I bit my lip. "I was. But I couldn't take it. Why waste my time indoors when I could go out and do whatever I want?" 

He sighed. "You do not know how much I wish to know the answer." He shook his head. "But a philosophy I follow, nonetheless."

"You shouldn't bother much. You're outside now, not inside the castle," I replied. Then I hastily added, "Your Highness." 

"May I ask a favor?" 

It was as if I did have a choice. As a subject, I was to do favors for him. It was the typical finishing school study of the relationship between ruler and subject. I wanted to say, "As if I have a choice" but deep down I knew that he did not deserve my lippy remarks.  

"Of course, your Highness." I bowed my head since I couldn't curtsy. 

He was laughing suddenly. I wished I could laugh with him, but I didn't understand why he was laughing in the first place. I wasn't idiotic enough to laugh at something I didn't understand. 

"I wish for you not to address me so," he told me. Now I understood why he was laughing. He was laughing at _me_. He was about to ask me not to call him so formally and I just did. 

But I didn't understand all. I was confused. Didn't he like being treated as if he was all _high and mighty_? "What do you mean?" 

He took this quite literally and said, "Alva, with your intellect, I assumed that you would understand." 

I wanted to tell him that I understood he didn't want to be addressed stiffly, but I couldn't understand _why_. "I understand you, but, I think you might find this impertinent, why? I find that asking why is a necessary step to pursuing knowledge or making decisions. Why do you wish to not be addressed the way I had addressed you?" 

 His eyes were not on my face any longer. He was looking at the scenery I was sketching awhile ago. "Must you know the answer?" 

"I find that the question _why _should be answered before fulfilling a request." I sighed. "It's demanding of me, but I do not wish to jump to anything without fully understanding it." 

"I don't find that formality flattering. I do believe were more than acquaintances, am I right?" I had to agree. He added, "And it sounds strange coming out of your lips. I know you haven't been in Court for five years. You're not used to being around courtiers." 

Five years ago was Mother's death. I've never sought to visit Court once again because of that. Mother was the one who knew the Court. Father was not one for the castle, since he was always traveling. 

I nodded. "I didn't think I was needed. Besides, I was busy with myself." 

Eric. His name played in my mind. I imagined myself speaking his name, yet I couldn't bring myself to. It was strange, calling him with his name and not with a title. It must have been hard for him to be known all his life as "Your Highness" or "Your Majesty" or "My Prince" and not be known as Eric. How ridiculous his naming must have been because it was not used so often! He was probably only called so around immediate family members and friends. Was I a friend to him? Have I achieved his respect and friendship because of my runaway mouth?

My ponderings made me occupy. Then his voice broke in. 

He asked: "May I see that sketch of yours?" 


	5. IV

A/N: Thanks so much to the reviewers!! The following chapter is indebted to www.botany.com for providing the herbs and spices I used. Although some of them are from my own mind :P hehehe. And marjoram CAN be used as a cure for insomnia though I suppose it works only for some people. I use it to cure MY insomnia...hehehe it's quite effective, You could add it to a hot cup of milk or simply inhale it. You won't fall asleep immediately, but there is something about the scent of marjoram that does make you sleepy. Or so it is to me... ÜÜÜÜÜ Hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!! ÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜ  
  
~*~  
  
I myself was surprised that I was friends with my sovereign. Friendship with Eric didn't occur to me, not ever. It also didn't occur to me that I would encounter him in my life as someone more than a prince. While ladies were all swooning at their handsome prince, I was reading and studying not even pausing for once to reconsider his existence. There were so many ladies who would wish to be in my shoes, when before I despised being near a ruler, since I have to act awkwardly. But there he was, a prince, and he was my friend.  
  
It took a while to get used to calling him by his name. It took an even longer time to treat him as a friend. It might seem strange because I often forgot he was one when he still hadn't requested me calling him Eric.  
  
There were ground rules in our friendship.  
  
"You do know about my stepfamily." I told him.  
  
He made a face that looked as if it should be on a child's. "Lady Lacrecia and her daughter, Caroline?"  
  
I nodded. "And don't forget about Edith."  
  
"You have two stepsisters? All this time I thought you only had one," he mused, a smile playing on his lips.  
  
I shrugged my shoulders. "Edith wants to be hidden and unknown. She is not like me, alone because of reading. She just wants to sit in one corner and contemplate on things."  
  
Eric's face was glowing with mirth. "Is she sick?"  
  
"She isn't! And she's not always stoic...sometimes I catch her with a gleam in her eyes," I answered with a frown. "Don't talk about her like that...she's just... strange..."  
  
"Not a strange as you are." I tossed him one of my warning looks. "I know about them, but why do you want to speak about them?"  
  
It was hard to tell him. It was as if I had something to hide. "Well, I much prefer that you speak to no one about our friendship."  
  
"I was going to tell you that too. We're friends, nothing more. I wouldn't want the whole Court gossiping about it behind our backs. And unfortunately, I am painfully aware of the fact that your stepsister, Caroline, is chasing after me."  
  
"If she knows she will force me to take you to her. And I don't want you suffering because of her."  
  
He nodded. "She is unbearable. She demands that you speak to her, and also acts too much of a lady. She is religious to decorum and the rules of flirting—" He flashed me a jester's grin. "—but she is no expert."  
  
"Expert?" I burst out. "I dare not think what an expert in flirting is like to you."  
  
He didn't say anything. He just continued to smile.  
  
Some days after that episode, in the same spot where we first became aware of our friendship, he said, "Don't you ever get tired of reading and learning? Every time I see you, your nose is under a book. Or if not, it's looking down on a sketchpad."  
  
"Why do you care? It's not like my nose is something you would want to see," I replied. I was reading a book, though I knew it was impolite. I completely missed his point.  
  
And although there were many other philosophies were formulated  
to contradict Juitinati, none could really compete against the  
wisdom of this philosophy. One of the few philosophies that  
almost got near the level of Juitinati was Siulun.  
Unfortunately, it was found out that—  
  
"Alva, were you listening?"  
  
I snapped out of my concentration and shook my head sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Eric. It's just that when I concentrate the world suddenly disappears."  
  
"This is what I meant. Alva, I am afraid to say that your reading and learning has cut off your attention span. Don't you ever get tired?"  
  
"Tired of reading and learning? Never! Once I'm finished with history, I'll immerse myself in philosophy. And classic literature. There are so many things in the world that you can find out. You will not know it unless you do it yourself."  
  
"I know. I wish I could share the same passion of reading. I love to read but I am not very interested in non-fiction. Philosophy is interesting; you see the world in another point of view."  
  
"Anything is interesting if you put your heart to it. The only thing that I would want to do is travel the world, see what it has to offer before it's too late." I sighed, suddenly recalling Father's stories about his travels. "I will go out of Tryla and see for myself the Sailesvre, the Roseate Tower, the museum of the greatest art works. If I could only see the caryatids of the Temple in Emore, then maybe I wouldn't have to enter the temple itself to marvel at its intricacy. And to see the biggest library in Grewen would make the happiest person alive!"  
  
"I've been there. All of them. And judging from your interests, Grewen will surely make you mad with joy. The bookshelves reach up to the ceiling, and each of those shelves are crammed with books. Every printed book is there, even in languages you wouldn't understand. I don't advise you to go there. You might just faint from pleasure."  
  
"But then, if I were to faint with joy, I would be back right up because of excitement." I grinned at the sight of his shaking head. "I can imagine it now."  
  
"A week wouldn't be enough to just scan the bookshelves," Eric pointed out.  
  
I smirked. "Then I would have to stay there for a long time."  
  
"We could go there, if you wish."  
  
"You wouldn't want to be with me when I go to that place. I would go stark raving mad with utter bliss..." I trailed off, knowing that by saying this, I would hear one of his retorts.  
  
He laughed at me. Every time I opened my mouth, he watched out for something wrong or something he could contradict. It was pesky yet it challenged me to either speak cryptically or carefully. "Then don't go. You might just end up in an asylum for your elation."  
  
I rolled my eyes. The voice of one of the mistresses in finishing school suddenly rang in my head saying, "If you keep doing that, it would stay that way." I stopped quickly, for it was hard to shake of their teachings. Not that I did believe my eyes would stay rolled. "Asylum then it would be," I replied dryly.  
  
Eric sighed with exasperation, a sign that he was getting tired of me. "I don't mean to be blunt but you should lighten up a bit."  
  
I was quick with an answer. "And you should be back where you came from, basking in all your glory."  
  
"Why can't you accept the fact that I don't want all that?" he inquired. He had told me this before, and I simply and steadfastly refused to believe him.  
  
"Because you are born with it, and you should be used to it. As a matter a fact, it is strange that you aren't because that kind of respect is existent the day you were born."  
  
"You were a lady the day you were born, but did that restrict you from acting the way you are now? I have lived long enough to justify that women coming from finishing schools are real ladies."  
  
"And by that you mean?"  
  
"I mean ladies who don't spend their time sitting on the dirt." His hazel eyes twinkled teasingly.  
  
I glared at him. "You are in no position, whatsoever to tell me what to do."  
  
He grinned mischievously. "Ah, but you have forgotten that I am a prince."  
  
"You don't want to be anyway," I shot back. I decided to ignore him and resumed reading my book.  
  
He snatched my book out of my hands.  
  
"What are you doing?!" I shrieked. The book was not historical this time. It was about the philosophies of the east. It was about balance and harmony among contradicting elements. The philosophy was called Juitinati. It originated from Yintiao, an empire that was very far from Tryla.  
  
"You will not take that finger off that page," I breathed. "Or else I swear I will kill you even though I will die in return!" I was scowling at him while he was smiling ridiculously at me as if he had achieved something that was supposed to be applauded.  
  
"I advise you to stop reading for once," he told me with authority. "Look at yourself. You are too serious and, if possible, too academic for the lighter things of life."  
  
This notion did cross my mind, yet I didn't plan on elaborating on it. I guess I did read too many books, more than the average person. And I suppose that I was a bit too academic for the lighter, stupider, and more illogical joys of life. My humor was bland and more sarcastic than hilarious. It was funny, actually. I was the serious, educated young lady, while he was the one who lightened things up. I found it amazing for him to be so calm and... humorous, then balance it with his seriousness in his learning. I, on the other hand, focused only on one aspect.  
  
My shoulders dropped. I was suddenly serious. "Do you think I'm uninteresting?" I asked.  
  
He frowned when I asked my question. I was afraid that I displeased him in some way. For one heart-ending moment, I thought he would say I was. Then, he would no longer be my friend. I treasured him, not because he was a prince, but because I rarely get to speak with people who could understand what I was saying.  
  
"Of course not," he replied. His tone implied that I was a complete idiot for even asking. "If you were completely uninteresting, explain why I am here now, speaking with you? You are the most interesting person I've met, aside those who are delirious."  
  
I was suddenly appreciative of him saying that. I suddenly wished I could embrace him and say, "Thank you, thank you, for not lowering my esteem!" But it would be improper.  
  
We stayed in that spot for a longer time, enjoying each other's company. We parted ways simply because we each had our own lives. He said he was requested to be with his father to learn how to be a king, when the time comes. I, on the other hand, needed to be home before sunset, or else Lacrecia would bore me down with questions.  
  
On my way home, I thought about what he said. Was I too intellectual to have some fun? Was I, dared to say it, boring? But boring couldn't possibly align itself to my random bouts of childishness. There were times when running was preferred over walking, and shouting was better than talking in a soft voice. Occasionally, I climbed trees and sketched sceneries—but for a perfectly good reason. There was something entirely different from a tree's point of view from a ground's point of view. Climbing trees didn't happen often, since I was wearing a gown. When would there be a time when women would be able to wear clothing that allowed them to move freely? But nonetheless, surely, my unpredictability would not mix well with a boring strain! Or could it?  
  
Repartees had been a source of entertainment before. These were quite natural of me, but then, who was I to repartee with aside from Eric? Lacrecia? Caroline? They were more of arguments than witty conversation. My sarcasm was not enough to compensate for my lack of hilarity. My sarcasm was tactless and blunt most of the time. It might be a reason why I didn't have courtier friends...or maybe it was because I didn't go to Court.  
  
I arrived home early. No one worried for me, except Barbara, who reprimanded me for staying out too long. She led a firm belief that ladies were to stay at home; a forest was not a place for them. Reading in the forest, she repeated my excuse for a dozen times. But she didn't discourage me from reading; she just highly disapproved of my makeshift library.  
  
~*~  
  
I was on my way to the riverside as always. Eric and I would meet there, like everyday. Somehow, I couldn't quite let the sun set without seeing him, or enjoying an afternoon with him. He had already become a vital part in my life.  
  
This time, I decided to go around the manor house and to the backyard. Cathy and Rosamund were cleaning up the kitchen, which I had to pass to get the backdoor, and I didn't want to bother their cleaning. It was no nuisance to go around the manor the longer way than just cut through by the kitchen.  
  
The forest clearing was near. There was a short stone wall that encircled Rista's backyard, and it would be easy to climb over it. There was still the garden to pass before getting to the wall. There the herbs and spices were cultivated for private use. I had had my share of planting some of the herbs there. There were marjoram, basil, rosemary, oregano, and many other herbs and spices that helped in the culinary arts as well as the healing arts.  
  
"You foolish girl!" someone screamed. I was startled. Who could say such words in such a large volume, and in the manor? My back was quickly pressed to the wall behind me, and hiding away from view, I watched the spectacle that would be buried in my mind forever.  
  
It was Lacrecia, towering over a young girl carrying a basket with freshly picked herbs. Her knees were trembling beneath the thin fabric of her gown. Her brown eyes were large with fright, her mouth quivering. I understood that it was the niece of the maids, a little girl of five. Barbara had introduced her to me while she was showing the girl around. Barbara mentioned that she was an orphaned girl from the village, and her last resort for survival was employment in a manor, where her only aunt and uncle worked. Barbara told me that Lacrecia did not want any burdens in Rista, so she tasked the girl to help with small tasks as much as possible. Her name was Marian.  
  
"Well?" Lacrecia demanded haughtily. "What do you have to say for yourself? I clearly said I want you to pick me marjoram for my ever increasing insomnia. Is that too much to ask? But apparently it is because you give a useless, wasted, worthless basketful of oregano!" With each word, her hand came out like whip and landed on the shoulders of Marian with a slap.  
  
I could see tears coming down Marian's face. I wanted to run and push Lacrecia out of the way, but almost every day I was in the position of Marian. Every day I was threatened and intimidated, although it had not worked as effectively as in her case.  
  
"I'm so-so-so sorry!" Marian managed to choke out from her straggled disposition. "I do-don't know what marjoram is!!"  
  
Lacrecia stamped her foot. "Then you should have asked me you dull-witted girl! If you could spare me a few of your very precious words then maybe you wouldn't have picked such a large amount of oregano that would eventually be laid to waste because of your immensely huge blunder!!"  
  
The girl squeaked, "But I di--did ask ma'am! I did! But you didna answer!"  
  
I watched as my stepmother raised her hand and strike the girl on the cheek. The resounding slap almost echoed throughout the back garden. Marian dropped to her knees with a loud sob, and continued weeping to the ground. The basket fell from her hands and rolled to the ground, littering it with carefully picked oregano.  
  
Lacrecia lifted her foot this time, and kicked the girl on the side. I gasped as I watched her do this. I couldn't fathom why I wasn't moving, why I wasn't helping her. It was as if this violent and rare display of Lacrecia's true temperament had frozen me to the ground.  
  
"How dare you put the blame upon my head, you whoreson's daughter? What right do you have to accuse me of the blunder you yourself had done? I am the mistress of this manor, the mistress of Rista, and as another worthless servant girl under my employment, I am your mistress!" Lacrecia screamed as she pained the girl even more. I could almost hear her slipper on Marian's side, the poor girl's beating heart going fast for an erratic finish.  
  
Marian's earsplitting sobs and wails shook me back to myself, and I knew than what I had to do. It was inhuman for me to stand watch while Marian was being reduced to a weeping and recoiling shell by Lacrecia. How selfish of me to not stop her before it go out of hand! I sought out from my refuge to stop Lacrecia from whatever harm she could do.  
  
"Lacrecia!" I shouted as I walked from the hiding place. My stepmother stopped beating the girl to look at me. Her eyes swept through me, and still contained the gleeful malice she felt in beating up Marian.  
  
"Alva, mind your own scruples," she commanded with her usual animosity. "I am simply teaching this girl a lesson."  
  
"What kind of lesson?" I demanded as I approached her. "A lesson to accept affliction that is wholly undeserved?"  
  
"Can you act like a normal stepdaughter and let me do what should be done? In this case, a beating is very much the equivalent of this girl's grievances towards me. Many servants are beaten up every day and this is merely another circumstance wherein a mistress disciplines her servant. "  
  
"But that doesn't mean you should follow that trend! Such widespread heartlessness does not justify the correctness of something!" I answered angrily. "What did she do to deserve this treatment from you?"  
  
"She is a stupid worthless brat and she deserves a beating for being so," said Lacrecia without hesitation or a smidge of guilt or shame.  
  
With all my strength, I resisted all urges to scream and tear her apart then and there. I had felt all Lacrecia's loath since the first day she came to Rista, but this, by far, was her most appalling display, the most unspeakable unmasking of her true and violent nature. "Then leave her now," I advised her. "If she is but a stupid worthless brat, then you shouldn't waste your valuable time with her."  
  
For once, Lacrecia thought my words were worth her following. "Indeed, you are correct, Alva. That is the first, most intelligent thing you have said to me." She then glared at Marian, who was still on the ground, her face turned away from us, her sobbing subduing by each second that passed. "But burn my words into your small mind, girl, that once you displease me again, I will be certain to banish you from Rista and much more," she said with malice coating each word. Then she turned on her heel. I watched her as she entered the manor house once more, and heard the shut of the door behind her.  
  
I knelt down beside Marian, not minding the dirt that came in contact with my gown. I placed a hand on her shuddering back. "Hush, hush," I whispered to her ear. "Stop crying now, Marian, stop crying."  
  
She looked up at me, her brown eyes swollen and red. Her cheeks were a mixture of tears and dirt, a muddy concoction. "I didna mean to!" she cried to me. Her hands were still on the ground, so was her whole body. Her tawny hair was messy from its ponytail.  
  
"Now, now, there is no need to cry anymore," I told her. "I will not hurt you, so don't cry, Marian."  
  
But she still cried, and this time, she buried her face onto my chest and sobbed there uncontrollably. I encircled my arms around her, in an attempt to comfort her. She was awfully young, and she didn't deserve the treatment Lacrecia gave her. No one deserved it.  
  
"Hush now. She's gone Marian."  
  
"But what will happen to me? I don't know what any herb looks likes! She would come back!!" she wailed miserably.  
  
I bit my lip. "I know what they look like. So I'll show what the herbs are. I'm sure it'll help."  
  
I took her small hand and led her to the garden. The first herb had flat whitish blossoms, with finely cut and serrated leaves. "This is an anise."  
  
"Anise," Marian repeated to herself quietly.  
  
"The leaves could be used for garnishes and salads. Did you know that the seeds could be used for cakes and cookies? The taste of anise is rather sweet. The oil of this herb could also be used for medicine."  
  
"Anise," she repeated again.  
  
I smiled. "See? It isn't hard. I promise you that by the end of this afternoon, you will be able to know every kind of herb there is in this garden." Deep in my mind, I thought of Eric waiting. But surely, he wouldn't mind my tardiness for such a cause.  
  
Basil, borage, caraway, catnip, chervil, chives, coriander, dill, fennel, horehound, hyssop, lavender, lovage, marjoram, oregano, parsley, peppermint, rosemary, sage, savory, spearmint, tarragon, thyme, and woodruff. She memorized them all possessing every bit of avidness from a renowned scholar's apprentice. Her wide-eyed interest was inspiring, and I didn't have a hard time explaining to her.  
  
"Actually, for someone who doesn't know what marjoram is," I told her when half of my afternoon was gone, "you got pretty close to getting it. Oregano is also called 'wild marjoram'. The difference is that oregano is coarser, and its scent is closer to thyme."  
  
Marian's eyes grew larger, and she laughed. It was such a surprise, so unexpected, as if a dried up river suddenly had fishes swimming in it. I had to laugh with her.  
  
I sighed. "Marian, you have to go to your duties now. I don't want Lacrecia to be mad with you again."  
  
"And I don't want that to happen too. But I don't want to return to her! She will do something bad again to me!"  
  
"No, she wouldn't," I answered with a soothing voice. "I promise you that I will try to do everything in my power to protect you from her."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"I promise." The soft lilt in her voice tore at my heart, and I couldn't quite bear it. I wanted to embrace her, and protect her from Lacrecia. I wanted to protect her in a way I wasn't protected from her harsh words and wrong judgment. "Go now, Marian. I don't want you to get in trouble again."  
  
Marian nodded, her brown curls bouncing. We were still kneeling on the ground, and she surprised me once again by kissing my cheek. She grinned, and then ran to the backdoor of the manor.  
  
My hand was on my cheek, where the little girl kissed me. How I wished I was child once again, a child her age. Because back then, I still had a mother and a father. I still had a home. But then, I wouldn't have the friendship I had, and I didn't want to lose it.  
  
I stood up, brushed the dirt from my gown, and walked to the forest clearing,  
  
Eric would surely be annoyed with me for delaying a whole half afternoon. But he would probably understand me; after all, he wasn't the usual prince.  
  
~*~  
  
When I got to the riverside, he was already there, skipping stones through the water. He didn't notice me arrive, and I watched silently as the stone skipped two, three, four times before sinking into the river. To me, it was a great mystery how one did that, and I never did solve that, much less do it.  
  
I approached him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Oh, he needed an explanation, and I needed to tell him now.  
  
"I was detained," I explained. "Besides, you occupied your time pretty well. How many stones have you sunk?"  
  
He grinned. "There were too many that I lost count." His brow furrowed and he looked intently over my shoulder. "I suppose you were detained by that child hiding behind the tree. She's been there staring at us for quite some time." He threw a pointed glance behind me.  
  
I turned and saw Marian, who was indeed hiding behind a tree yet watching us with her unique wide-eyed curiosity. I sighed. "Marian? Come here." I glanced at Eric, who just shrugged his shoulders. So how was I going to explain this to him? I had taken a girl under my wing, taught her about herbs, and prevented Lacrecia from beating her up.  
  
Marian obeyed almost immediately, and went to me, eyes downcast, and hands clasped.  
  
"Why did you follow me?"  
  
"I was scared," she answered.  
  
I shook my head. "Why should you be?"  
  
"Because you're not there," she replied simply.  
  
Eric looked at me quizzically, obviously confused with our conversation. He knelt down beside Marian. "Tell me...Marian, what makes Alva here so special?" he asked. He smiled to encourage her.  
  
She didn't seem intimidated by him, and I doubted if she knew his princedom. His smile did seem to take its desired effect on her, and she smiled back, dimples flashing. "She is going to guard me from a witch," she said proudly.  
  
My eyes widened a bit at her answer. My head shook and my hand came up to my forehead. Lacrecia was every bit of a witch, and Marian had a way of putting it nicely. Eric didn't show any signs of exasperation, although he did chuckle a little.  
  
"There's no witch here so you are safe," Eric told her. "You can go wherever you want in here, just as long as Alva and I could see you." I was about to protest, that Marian had her duties, and if neglected there would be consequences. But I realized that Marian was a child, and such labor was not meant for her. She was meant for running freely in the meadows, chasing butterflies, and tripping over rocks that got in the way of her running. I could make up an excuse for her because for now, I didn't have the heart to erase the joyous gleam in Marian's eyes, a gleam that could rival the most precious of all stones.  
  
Marian looked brightly at him, and my heart nigh leaped up with the tenderness of this moment. "What's your name sir?"  
  
"Eric. You can call me Eric."  
  
Marian nodded and immediately ran to river, where she watched the ripples made by the wind. Eric remained knelt on the grass, his eyes observing the little girl. I watched him as he did, noting the contemplativeness of him, how he gazed at Marian with a watchful eye. I knelt down beside him, unable to stand him so far beneath me. Yes, I wanted to be the same level as he was. It would be easier to look at him this way, and more convenient for the inevitable conversation.  
  
"I know I've just unwittingly given us the responsibility of either nannies or parents so might as well enlighten me to spend the time," he told me.  
  
I sighed. "Marian is the new servant girl in Rista. She's an orphan, and our manor was the only place she could go to. She is but five years old, Eric, so young to lose parents."  
  
"I understand, but what does that have to do with you protecting her from a witch?" He raised his eyebrow at the term used.  
  
My fists clenched automatically. "When I was about to go here, Lacrecia was scolding her badly, hurling insults and making her feel worse and worse—"  
  
"And she lifted her hand to strike her, eventually leading to a thrashing," Eric supplied effectively.  
  
Marian was looking at some flowers and smelling them. "How could you tell?" I asked.  
  
"As wicked as it sounds, it's quite predictable that uncalled-for scolding would lead to thrashing. Especially in the case of children," he answered, his matter-of-fact in an attempt to hide the anger he was feeling. "But then, what could any of us do? It's not like these things are ever reported to Court by the children or servants."  
  
The girl laughed and pointed to one flower. "Alva! Eric! This flower smells like marjoram!" Eric laughed a little.  
  
"I guess you are right..." I answered slowly to Eric, but at the same time, flashing a smile to Marian. "Lacrecia punished her because Marian didn't know what marjoram was. What could you expect from a little girl? She didn't need those beatings! I had to stop Lacrecia."  
  
"And you promised her you would protect her from her?" I nodded. "I didn't think she was prone to this behavior," he told me. "In fact, she is a rather respected lady in Court. A bit obsessive-compulsive but nonetheless she had gained the approval of many of Tryla's nobles."  
  
"Well she is still perverse! Beating a child is wrong, no matter how you look at it. Can't we have people ...hunt down those who do such acts?"  
  
He shook his head. "Perverse...not quite. I have heard of nobles adapting such a disciplinary action, it's just that no one really protested about it. Unfortunately, before applying a policy—for example a policy prohibiting that promotes pursuit for such people—in Tryla, it is normal to have society consulted about it. Likewise, the nobility should also support it."  
  
"Oh face the facts, Eric!" I almost snapped. "The majority of society is not the nobility. The majority is the common people, the peasants, those who do not lands and titles."  
  
His lips were pressed into a thin line, his hazel eyes suddenly darkening. "I am very aware of that fact, but since the minority is the one who holds the greater influence, it more likely that the decisions hinges more to their side," he answered quietly and grimly.  
  
"You know about it! Then why can't you do anything? We can't have many children suffering like Marian, even worse, suffering more." I couldn't even look at him. He could do so much, yet why wasn't he acting up? What was the point of gaining such greatness, such authority over people when it couldn't be used for good? Was I wrong? Was Eric an apolitical person, someone who wouldn't care about his people? Was I wrong when I though he was someone I could share my passion and beliefs with?  
  
I sensed that he was looking at me, staring at my back turned to him. "I would, if I could. I am not the king, Alva, and I don't hold that much authority as much as you think I do hold. Society is a great contributing factor to the way a kingdom works. Father...he doesn't want to risk a great part of support from his subjects. If so ever the nobility—the class of people who also have power—are dissatisfied, then it would spell greater trouble because unlike commoners they have the power to wage a protest. And what you're suggesting—I mean, having a panel of officials to scrutinize the way nobles treat their workers—would surely give displeasure. It would mean that they are not trusted with regard to their functions."  
  
"But that doesn't mean that what they believe is right. I understand your plight, Eric, but your father, the king, I don't understand at all. If he would let himself be ruled by the people, then he would be but a mere wooden doll attached to strings!"  
  
He answered quickly, "That's not true! Sovereigns also have to seek approval and they cannot move without getting those in power to help them!"  
  
"Then those who do not hold such power and influence are practically worthless?"  
  
"No they aren't," he countered. "You're being close-minded. They aren't ignored, and there are many laws that promote their own welfare, similarly to the welfare of the nobility. Their views are also in account, and laws and policies cannot be done if it the common class is not consulted. But it is more probable, like that in Misethan social classes, that the decisions would be hindered to the powered ones. It is also to keep peace and order."  
  
"But the commoners also have the power to wage protests, to be a large element in peace and order. Tryla is not a biased kingdom, I know well that it strives for the welfare of all peoples, but we have to give more consideration to those who have less opportunity to have their views declared in Court. So why isn't it that they aren't any policies protecting the rights of these people?"  
  
"There are such policies, human rights that protect the welfare of every single Trylan. But apparently, it cannot be reinforced because no one seems to make an issue about it. If someone could just put this issue into light then it would change things greatly. Sometimes, victims do not complain because they don't know such a right exists."  
  
"They don't know..." I whispered. And Marian probably didn't know. She probably thought that she was but a child in a kingdom dominated by adults and saw it unfit to protest. "Then do something! Tell your father there should be a propaganda informing Trylans from all corners about what rights they could have! We cannot have Tryla's own people unaware of the assistance that the laws of Tryla offer them! Surely that wouldn't cause any displeasure to nobility and commoner alike because it gives no direct action, just information!"  
  
He nodded, and was about to say something when Marian came to us, almost skipping and an epitome of childlike happiness. Her brown hair was already messy from chasing butterflies, but her smile was the brightest I had ever seen, and her round cheeks were flushed with excitement and joy. She dropped on her knees beside me, placed her head on my lap, and stretched her feet. She didn't say anything. She just cast her brown glance to both of us, and with a deep breath, closed her eyes.  
  
Eric and I stared dumbfounded at her. Then we looked at each other with a smile. Little Marian was sleeping on my lap, and there was nothing I could do. As if I would want to move her! As we watched, the soft brown head on my lap reached inside me, tugging at my heartstrings. And I wanted to give Marian her very own fairytale palace with fairies in the gardens and talking animals in the rooms.  
  
My hand came and stroked her hair. "Children can be quite unpredictable..."  
  
He just nodded. His gaze was intent on Marian, but there was a smile on his lips.  
  
"What am I going to do with her? I don't want her to go back to Rista where Lacrecia could do whatever she wished to her. But her only relatives work there; she has no choice."  
  
He leaned towards me, and took a closer look on Marian. Then he stroked her hair with his hand, his fingers softly and swiftly brushing mine. "Suppose you could transfer her relatives elsewhere?"  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Surely you have other lands aside from Rista."  
  
For a while, I thought. "Yes, I could send them to Wyra, the manor closest to Rista. Maybe. I have heard that it is in need of other workers. Besides, Rista is already overpopulated!"  
  
"And since it is near Rista, it would be easy to visit her. Are you sure she wouldn't suffer anything there?"  
  
I nodded. "Of course! The representative supervisor of Wyra was chosen by my own mother, and I could trust him with many things, like a piece of land. But what shall I tell Lacrecia?"  
  
"Just tell her that Rista doesn't need any more servants. You said it yourself; Wyra is in need of it. You could tell that instead of wasting more money hiring new people, she could just make do with her current resources and maximize it." He grinned at his plan.  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Eric, you are a mastermind of deception."  
  
Marian slept on, her lids over eyes, her breathing slow and even. Her cheeks were still ruddy from running. Still in her sleep, her lips were in a smile. She was probably dreaming about wonderful things. I imagined giant butterflies with glass-stained wings taking her to the fairy realm, to the citadels of sorcerers and sorceresses, to the secret haven where all animals lived like humans, to the sphere of light where her parents were. It was pure utter bliss.  
  
Eric and I no longer talked about heavier things, apparently inspired to talk about silly and childlike things. Then and there our childhood stories passed between the two of us. He told me of his childhood with two sisters. Penelope and Rosena, though younger than him, had constantly plotted behind his back when they were still little sovereigns. He had told me that once they had conspired to trap him in the tower, to get him to play a tragic story of a princess looking for her love by going to the highest point of her castle.  
  
"They were convinced that I could be their older sister. Thankfully, it didn't and would never happen even if I would be ensorcelled against my very reluctant will," he told me with a groan.  
  
And I told him of the days when Mother and Father were still alive. I told them how Mother had threatened to disown me when I climbed a tree and refused to go down. Mother had a fit because of that, but Father just laughed at her overreacting and let me be.  
  
"She almost convinced me that she conceived a cat rather than a daughter, by calling me in a way one calls a cat."  
  
We laughed at our stories, but very softly and carefully, because Marian might wake up. But our suppressed laughter could not be contained for long because at one point, we just burst out laughing. Marian woke up, but still wore a smile. She rubbed her eyes and looked at us, her head still on my lap.  
  
Both of us smiled sheepishly at her direction, although we really didn't know what to tell her.  
  
Marian looked at us suspiciously. "Are you two lovers?" she asked without a hint of shame.  
  
In a matter of seconds, many things happened to just Eric and I. My back stiffened suddenly and I stared down at Marian with incredulity. I realized that cheeks were probably flaming, as I couldn't even bear the incomprehensibly large amount of blood that rose to my face. I stole a quick glance at Eric. His eyes were...smoldering...and almost golden. The expression he threw at Marian was like that of mine: wide-eyed, mouth slightly open, and disbelief running in circles on our faces. I noticed he too had colored slightly, but almost certainly not as much as mine. So much changed in the atmosphere at the asinine question of one girl, and strangely, it had affected Eric and me quite effectively.  
  
"Of course not! We are friends," Eric answered swiftly.  
  
"Where did you get that idea?" I demanded at the same time.  
  
Marian giggled. But we couldn't really deny the fact that we were flustered beyond speaking, for reasons that were unexplainable.  
  
I didn't know how we managed to get rid of that tensed feeling around us. I couldn't quite look Eric into the eye, and he couldn't do so with me. How ridiculous! But then, her childlike notions were probably substantiated because lovers spent a lot of time alone together in secluded places. But so did good friends!  
  
The time came when we had to part our ways. Eric was always called to Court, and I had to return Marian to Lacrecia. She might be more livid if she remained missing for a longer time.  
  
When we returned home, Lacrecia interrogated us immediately. I told her that we spent the whole day in the garden, learning all the kinds of herbs so she would be pleased. I reasoned that she never bothered to look out to the garden to notice us that was why she didn't see us. When she said it took a long time, I told her that she said it herself: Marian was a dull- witted girl (although I didn't really believe this). And this asset made it difficult for her to learn.  
  
I mentioned Wyra to her, and heard its problems. Then I said what Eric told me. Lacrecia nodded, and agreed, but very reluctantly. The next day, I bid my farewell to Marian. She would be in Wyra, but I could still see her, if time permitted me. I would miss her, and I was sure Eric would too. Even though we had met for only one day, a day with Marian was enough to equate a thousand emptier, uneventful days. 


	6. V

A/N: Thanks to all the reviews!!! I hope you like this chapter!! And feel free to criticize or comment. I'd be glad to take them all in account. ^_^ just don't flame me in a really annoying way. EG: You suck! PERIOD. Coz I'd really want to find out why I suck. Ok? Thanks again for the reviews!!!!!!!!!!!!

~*~

Keeping news to themselves was a characteristic that Lacrecia and Caroline were not blessed with. Whatever the news was, whether true or merely a scuttlebutt, they would report it with gusto no matter the circumstances. And the dining table was often the venue of such an energetic and accustomed exchange of gossip. They would mostly focus on one or two unlucky persons then formulate reasons with regard to a certain rumor about them. They were the true gossip mills. They heard the news, exchange it amongst themselves, add a little bit of sweetmeats to it, and then proceed to replace the stockpile of gossip gone stale. They had gotten in trouble once or twice for spreading gossip, but those were minor issues. And I must admit that if they didn't have their daily mutual feeding of chitchats then I would truly be secluded from the society I had shunned when Mother died. 

Their propensity for their daily gossipy nourishment grew even more pronounced when Lacrecia and Caroline had just arrived _together _from Court. They were present for most of the time, whenever someone required an audience. The queen often had teas with ladies of the kingdom so then she could know them better. I knew that when Caroline turned fifteen, she didn't miss one, and today was definitely no exception. When before it was just a feeding of rumors, this was already a feast for gossip-hungry parasites. The whole of the Court would be ridiculed form head to foot. No one was saved from their wagging tongues. And although their gossip provided entertainment for me (mainly because most of their news were utterly shallow and unbelievable), I still believed that gossip could do more harm than good.

Two days after Marian had left Rista, Lacrecia and Caroline lavished themselves with the delights of Court. It was dinner time, and the perfect time to do the gossip exchanging tradition between the two of them. While my stepmother and stepsister were talking with each other, I tried to focus all my attention on my plate of food. There was really nothing else to say to them because they were too absorbed with exchanging the scuttlebutts of courtiers. I caught only words and half-sentences, and could barely understand them. They were probably as noisy as the Rosean laundresses who were famed for their loud cries.

"Prince Eric suggested today in Court to have a propaganda that would inform the Trylans of their rights," Lacrecia said. "He said that a number of circumventions to the laws of Tryla had been possible because those who were victims of such deeds did not know that it was wrong in the first place!"

I looked up from my plate with interest. The mutton, peas, carrots, and potatoes were immediately forgotten. Instead, I did the uncommon; I listened with all ears open to Lacrecia and Caroline.

Caroline nodded. "How gallant of him! I mean a campaign just to help the peoples of Tryla! His Highness is the champion of the oppressed in Tryla! But then…the oppressed aren't really in great numbers…"

'That's why his Highness suggested the propaganda. King Raymond doesn't even have an exact number on those who are abused because of the ignorance to the rights and wrongs!" Lacrecia was absolutely proud of her extra knowledge.

"Yes! And he even applauded his son for such a brilliant plan! It makes me fall in love with him all over again!" Caroline sighed wistfully.

"Do you even love him in the first place?" I muttered to myself. Thankfully, Lacrecia and Caroline did not hear. But Edith, who was sitting beside me, caught it. She glanced at me with a small but nevertheless knowing smile. She still didn't say anything.

Lacrecia then had a thoughtful pause. "But who was that person Prince Eric alluded to? He said that the idea was not his, and that he had to credit it to a friend of his. There are so many high-ranking noble friends that could have easily suggested it, and it would do no harm if so ever he did give a name! He _refused_ to tell that friend's identity!" 

I had a warm feeling in my stomach, knowing that he had taken my suggestion into heart. And it was considerate of him to admit the idea wasn't entirely his! I smiled to myself when I heard this bit of news. Because of this campaign, many deviances to the laws would be avoided, and more abused people—especially commoners—would be able to go forward in full confidence to the knowledge that what they were doing was right. I couldn't help but smile to myself even more. He had done Tryla a great service, and yes, if I was Caroline, then I would truly fall in love with him all over again. 

The next trails of gossip were already about other courtiers, and my interest went back to my dinner plate. Mutton had never looked this interesting. 

 "Lady Gwyneth of Orna was married to a Misethan! Would you believe?" 

"And it was said that she didn't want to be married to a foreigner!" 

"But then, her children might have those extraordinarily beautiful eyes!" 

They suddenly turned to me. They were staring at my eyes. Many Misethans had strange eye colors. Some have the right eye green and the left eye blue. Violet was an almost impossible eye color in Tryla, in Miseth, it was not impossible, but nor was it popular.

What intrigued them very much was the fact that the color of my eyes fell on that almost impossible category of violet. When I was young and still attended Court, many fawned at me and complimented the color of my eyes. They couldn't quite believe that such an eye color existed. I was proud with my own uniqueness but I did find out that it was nigh impossible to have such eyes. I was young and still ten when I asked my mother why such an eye color existed in my family. Mother told me the truth, as she was determined to let the following generations know of the bravery and courage that beset one of my ancestors. To her they mollified the tragedy of it all, and she bore the story with pride. Yet to me this bravery and courage were far from consolation. The reason why I hated it was because of my family history. My history was shrouded with wrong marriages, runaways, crime, and babies made out of marriage. 

Misethan blood flowed through me because my great-great-grandmother from my mother's side, Elin, was wronged by one. She bore a child with violet eyes. It did not pass down until my mother was born. And then me. I knew my mother. She knew about the history behind those eyes but she tolerated it by making it a sign of beauty and pride. And she had a clear vision of Elin as a brave woman who kept the child that could ruin her. It worked for her, and she was known to have those besotting eyes. But it didn't occur to me that those eyes were something other than horror. It was a reminder of crime and hatred. Every time I looked in the mirror, I only saw blood and tears. Violet eyes might be beautiful to others, but the meaning of my own violet eyes was ugly with disgust. My mother was strong to have triumphed over it, while I was weak to only lament in it.

Lacrecia and Caroline were staring at me. I glared at them. Lacrecia was the first to react.

"Glaring is not pretty, Alva."

"Staring is not pretty too, Lacrecia," I replied.

Edith just ate. But another smile was on her lips again, a telltale sign that she was amused. Whatever could be so amusing?

Caroline gave a more suitable reaction; she gasped. _No one _should argue with Lacrecia. 

"Alva, we just admired your eyes. They are so unusual. Where did you get them?" She was using her fake loving voice that signaled that she was irked.

"My mother's side." I didn't want to elaborate. 

Lacrecia was not satisfied with my answer. Her lips curled into a sneer. "But Martin never said anything about Fiala having Misethan ancestry, Rosean, yes, but not Misethan." She said my mother's name with disdain. 

"It wasn't legal." My voice was monotonous and unemotional. 

Everybody's eyes went huge. They knew what I meant, unless they were too stupid. Caroline was smiling a little, Edith was uncharacteristically emotional, and Lacrecia was triumphing in uncovering an ugly gash in my family's history. 

It was true. Aside from being made before the real actual marriage, I was the great-granddaughter of a bastard. Sometimes, when I was feeling cynical and harsh, I wondered why they didn't abort that malady. That bastard was the symbol of injustice and crime, hate and tears. But then, she was my great-grandmother, and my mother told me that the child of that crime was hope for a new start. _She knew that she will commit a crime herself if she killed the innocent child in her womb. She knew that with the birth of that girl, comes salvation. The baby was a new start,_ Mother told me when I was old enough to understand.

Caroline smirked at me. "Are you sure you are not like the Misethans? They are cruel and evil. Being in trouble is their business." 

"Really?" I replied, unnaturally calm. "Might I ask what side does the Misethan blood come from, your father's or your mother's?" 

She was dumbfounded with my answer, and before anyone could react I stood up, curtsied, and left the table. 

No one screamed at me, or reprimanded my manner. And this rather surprised me because Lacrecia never let me commit a single movement that would be accused of impropriety. They let me go without much ado, which rarely happened. 

The words of Caroline stung me more than I showed. It was true; Misethans were prone to violent actions. They were not evil, but they were in an impractical Trylan's point of view. It was different. Evil took many forms. What might be good for one kingdom might be unforgivable for another. The Misethans didn't see slavery as unforgivable. They saw it as a way of life, and slaves should struggle to get out of that way of life. They believed in the quote "Every man for himself" and followed it accordingly. It was the slave's fault, not the master's. Slaves were those who couldn't pay their debt, who committed crimes, and who were prisoners of war. The masters of the slaves and a high monarchial official could be the only ones to give the slave his or her freedom. In Tryla, on the other hand, people were not destined to be in one social status for eternity, unless they want to keep it. 

There was no such thing as a perfect world, but what was perfect? This I kept in mind until I met Eric again, which was not a few days later.

I had taken refuge in my room, and now I was sitting in front of my large windows. There was nothing to see, as the surrounding environment was shrouded by the dead of the night. But somehow I could almost see what might have happened to Elin. Somehow I saw her running for her life and being pursued by a monster. I closed my eyes abruptly, not wanting to imagine anything anymore. 

This was what the dark could do to you. The dark made everything into nothing, and nothing could turn into anything.

My study table was just beside the large windows, and I sat on the chair. I needed to distract myself, so I took my notebook, and read all those stories I had written since I was eleven. Most of my stories were real, based on events that had happened to me, and I had written down on paper. My notebook revealed the sadness I had felt from mother's death, the ostracizing of the finishing school ladies, and everything that had come to me since that fateful day of her death. 

I took a quill, dipped it in the ink bottle, and started writing. 

_Eyes had been there with humans for the sole purpose of giving sight—to see. But the eyes had not been known to delve inside the soul of the person, never been known to see the hidden aspects of life._

_On the other hand, beauty had never been anything but a feast for the eyes. The waters of the mythical Etenodan __river__ of __Sele__ had been famed for its ability to satiate the drinker, as well as poison him with the eternal thirst that could only be quenched by the waters. Beauty could take many appearances and one of these appearances was the waters of Sele. Beauty could satisfy the eyes of a person, and in turn intoxicate him or her, to the point that only beauty could satisfy his or her standards._

_Beauty could be a mask to hide something perverse, horrifying. But what could anybody do? It is human inherence to see the surface, to see the immediate. They first see the captivating face of a lady, and soon forget the things behind those tortured eyes._

_The only reason why _

I stopped writing. At the back of my mind, I was wondering why I was writing this. I had wanted this matter out of my mind, yet now I was conjuring up a story for it. Although, if I wrote it down, it would be on parchment, and partially out of my mind. Writing had always been a satisfactory output. 

_The only reason why Deirdre was beautiful was not because she was blessed, but because she was bred to be who she was._

_Her family had a hidden goal that turned into an obsession. The goal that had survived since the passing of four generations was to produce the most beautiful offspring, to maintain the family's influential seat in Trylan society through the one thing that all were not blind to. Quite superficial but then, beauty had never failed as an avenue for success and ratification in the glamorous Court of Tryla. They married only those who were rich and attractive, handsome or beautiful. They raised their children to be the epitome of femininity or masculinity. Not a lot had reached the goal the parents of Deirdre had reached. In fact, maybe no one._

_Four generations of intermarriages, arranged marriages, finishing schools, and strict upbringing brought forth the young Deirdre, inarguably the most beautiful lady of the Court of Tryla. Her hair was the spun rays of the sun, yet like liquid gold, shining and flowing. How many people had already fallen captive to the temptation of thrusting their fingers into that shimmering golden softness? Her skin was likened to that of the fine Rosean porcelain dolls, yet hers were not cold and hard like those lifeless dolls. It was as soft and silky as it was unblemished and pleasing to the eye. Her lips were sensuous and red, the shape that could entice the most voracious of all kisses.  Her cheeks were rosy, with all the color of red Trylan flowers. She was slender and the right size for a woman—the embodiment of all of Rosea's mythical female deities. But her eyes had never failed to reveal the beauty she possessed. One could store her in a box, with only a hole to reveal her eyes, and she could still inspire love and admiration. Such a unique blend of blue and green, of black and white, of sweetness and bitterness. Her eyes could show you the rivers of Tryla, the sunsets of Rosea, the forests of Etenod, and the __midnights__ of Miseth—all in one glimpse. Her strict rearing modeled her into the soft-spoken, docile lady that every man yearned to get their hands on.  _

_She enticed all forms of people; she looked as innocent as she was tempting. She was a hybrid of countless identities that please one and all. One and all… except herself._

_She never knew the outside of her confines. And despite the countless sermons that beauty was the only that mattered, she believed the opposite._

_ She was one of the statues in the Garden Heart of Tryla  or one of the masterpieces in the Rosean citadel come to life, for such perfection and beauty in all angles could only be the work of a master of marble or paint._

_This held some truth, for she was molded, she was created, and she was hung up on the wall for all to see. But a master was not needed to do so. An obsession, a fixation, a goal would be enough to motivate an otherwise loving family.  She was placed into a suffocating mold since her birth, and she had not yet been released from its binding prison._

_Poor Deirdre was painfully aware of the fact that she was a painting to be displayed, and nothing more._

I stopped. I was not Deirdre. I was not beautiful, nor was I docile and soft-spoken. There was not caged creature inside me. In fact, it had already sprung free and I had trouble keeping it in control. Deirdre was another person. The only thing we had in common was that behind that something everybody admired was a terrible reason. Hers was an intense family goal, and mine was the crime committed. 

Outside, I could hear an owl hooting. A gust of cold wind entered by bed chamber, and ruffled the curtains and flickered candles. The moon was like the glass eye of the present Misethan king. I put down my quill and closed my notebook. Then I opened it again and added a footnote:

_Author's Note: _

Discontinued mainly because it affects the authoress too much in a little way. 

~*~

We were in our usual spot in the forest. It was still rather early in the afternoon, at about two o'clock. The sun had well risen above the clouds, and hit us with a glaring intensity that even nearby trees could not remedy. The rays hit his hair, burnishing it with reddish and gold glints. And although the sun produced so much sweat on my arms and legs, I couldn't help but notice more acutely, Eric's expression when I asked him about what I thought last night. His hazel eyes were darker than the usual, and his eyebrow was raised questioningly albeit a bit teasingly. After all his time, had he not been used to thought-provoking questions that more often than once came out as often as the sun rises after the moon disappears?

Before I asked him, I seriously contemplated doing so. But then, I trusted Eric with correspondence, and I knew perfectly well that he could help settle my disturbed thoughts. "Why should you ask?" he asked me. I groaned inwardly when he did because I knew that I would have to explain the reasons behind my ponderings. And he wouldn't let me go if I didn't satisfy him with the truth. Strange how he knew whenever I was lying or not.

"But what _is_ it? What if death and destruction is the perfect world for someone who clearly advocates such abhorrence? What if the perfect world for a lazy person, is a world with no work at all, while the perfect world for a workaholic is a world with a lot of work?" I asked him.

"You shouldn't bother about these questions," he told me with the least bit of tact. 

"Why shouldn't I?" I snapped. I hated people telling me what I should or should not wonder about.

"Because perfection will never be attained. There's no point of worrying your mind about achieving it when you can't. It's futile," he said frankly. "You say that perfection is different from every person's point of view, and then surely, the world cannot attain perfection, mainly because there are many definitions of what it is. It would only be possible if we are all monotonous and without individuality. But surely, you would not risk such a high price—individuality and diversity—for something as unachievable as perfection." 

"Well if it is so unattainable, why is there even a word for it?" I retorted. "Why then, are you saying that all who strive for such are disillusioned dreamers?"

He placed his hand on his head. "Can't you just leave things be? And I am not saying that about those who wish for perfection. There's a word for it because there would always be something people want to achieve: perfection in their own standards. It can be achieved individually but for the whole world, for all the people living in it, I don't think so." 

Well, he answered my question sufficiently; I had to lay him off the hook. 

Then came the question that had discouraged—although quite unsuccessfully—me to ask him my questions in the first place.

"Why do you ask anyway?" 

It was as if I had known it was coming, and all my actions that succeeded the question was written down on parchment—scripted and memorized—then rehearsed and polished. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn't want him to know that it started because of my Misethan blood. "For no reason…I just thought of it," I lied.

He laughed suddenly. Dubiousness was clearly written on his face. "_You_ don't just think for no particular reason." 

"Why do you say that?" 

He held up one of his hands. "First of all, when you asked me about you being uninteresting, what triggered it was the fact that I told you that you were too academic. Second of all, you _are _too academic just to think _spontaneously_. You always have a basis. Third of all, I doubt if you even daydream." 

"Well you're wrong! Because I do daydream!" I replied hotly.

In contrast, Eric was still calm and smiling. "One down. That leaves two more. Tell me the truth Alva. After all, we've been friends for a suitably long time…" 

I sighed, and when I did, all my irritation went out. "Did you ever notice my eyes?" I asked him.

He seemed surprised with my question. He leaned closer and stared at my eyes. "So? They're violet, long lashes…unusual but eyes that could see what's in front of it." He noticed my frown. "Many prize violet eyes. Shouldn't you be happy to have such an appreciated physical trait?"

"I'm not one of those who cherish such an eye color. Misethans could carry such an eye color, am I right? Well, my stepsister told me that Misethans are cruel because of the slavery, and she told me that I might be cruel." He opened his mouth to interrupt but I placed my finger on his lips. "I know what you are about to say. I am not stupid enough to believe that. But I came to think that slavery isn't bad in their point of view. Then I thought how can we have a perfect world if there are other kinds of perfect in other people's minds?" 

He was thoughtful. "How come you have violet eyes anyway? Those who do marry Misethans live in Miseth, not Tryla." It was true. According to Misethan law, Misethans' bonds should be forever tied with their homeland, Miseth. Thus, they should always have a permanent residence in Miseth. If a Misethan married a foreigner, their family must live in Miseth. That is, if the family was _legal_, which was not so in my case.

I didn't look at him. I couldn't. This time, I valued his reaction. I didn't want to tell him that my ancestor was raped. It wasn't her fault, but nonetheless, such an ugly wound continued to infect throughout the generations. That was why it was kept a secret, and Elin was immediately wed to some fool to hide the crime. There was a feeling in my heart that told me that I shouldn't, in fear of scaring him away. If I were to lose him, I wouldn't bear it. Why was I feeling this way?

He seemed to understand my plight, and he didn't ask questions. He just placed his hand on my shoulder, as if to comfort me. His care for me opened up my mind and my mouth opened along with it.

"When I look into my eyes, I only see pain," I said in a quiet voice. He didn't expect my voice to come out of my mouth, yet his hand remained there, warm and comforting. "It was wrong, a crime. And it shouldn't have happened." 

He understood perfectly. He didn't scold me, like what he always did. He could not see my face, as my back was turned to him, but he must have recognized the tear in my voice that was new. 

As for me, I didn't know why I was feeling so cheerless. It was different telling Lacrecia and her spawn. When I told them, I felt monotonous and unfeeling. The reason was because they themselves wouldn't care in a way I would want them to care. With him, I felt that I couldn't tell him. What would he think if his friend was actually the great-granddaughter of an illicit child? Then he should add with the horrible gossip in my past.

These eyes were never anything but dreadful. When I look into the mirror, it didn't occur to me that my eyes were beautiful. It was unique, yes, but what was the uniqueness when compared to the hatred it expressed? In my mind, I didn't see the extraordinary color that some ladies envied. I saw the disgraceful moment, which was the sole reason for my existence, as if I was there when it happened. 

"It happens, and everything happens for a reason," he said, making me remember that I was not alone in the world and that someone was there, willing to listen and willing to accept. "After all, you wouldn't be here if it didn't happen." 

I laughed a little at his comment. Then he looked into my eyes, and he saw the violet eyes without a shred of revulsion I thought would come. 

In that one moment, I wished that everything would just stop moving. In that moment, I found out the meaning of perfect.

~*~

For some reason, Lacrecia has been staring at me lately. She was always looking at my direction. When I left the house for just a quick walk or to meet with Eric, she would ask me where I would go. I always answer her vaguely like, "Out" or "Not here". She was beginning to be vexed with me, as I was beginning to be vexed with her. 

I didn't know if she suspected about my friendship with Eric, but I hoped not. If she did find out, she would force me to drag him to the house so then Caroline could talk with him. He was my friend, and I was not about to let him suffer Caroline's dimwitted conversations. And I couldn't stop myself from going to the riverside every day. I knew I wanted to be with Eric, all the time probably. But it was so confusing that I couldn't explain my own self.

This motivated me to sneak out instead of going out through the front door. Lacrecia need not know I would be going out. She didn't care anyway. If I were to be devoured by a pack of wolves, she wouldn't care. She never really cared about me unless I affected her in one way or another.

Then, I realized that I shouldn't just go out all the time. There was this news that a prisoner had escaped. News about him was not complete. I knew his name, which was Brutus. Yet, no one said anything about his charges. This was typical because no one really wanted to believe that he had escaped. It had been a long time since that had happened in Tryla. It's stupid to keep it from us, the people who would most likely be affected. Knowledge was important, and not to be ignored. But then, every day we were in constant fear of robbers who just pop out of nowhere. What feared me the most was that he might just be around, lurking in every shadow, waiting for the kill. 

Almost the whole manor was thrown upside-down. Lacrecia and Caroline were all frantic with the news. Lacrecia made the menservants to install new locks for the doors. Caroline bought a huge bag and stashed all her valuables in it. She hid it somewhere, but I didn't know where. Edith just shook her head. But I knew that she secretly locked her windows and doors before she slept. I reacted but I doubted that he would come to us. There were more isolated places than ours. He would be much better off there. 

I didn't worry about not meeting Eric. I had heard that there was a patrol for the escaped criminal. He was part of it. I worried about his safety, but with men following behind him, I wasn't that scared. Besides, I shouldn't underestimate his capabilities. I wasn't completely cut off from court gossip. I also knew that he excelled in every sort of combat there was in Tryla. 

If he did come though, I knew that he would send me a letter telling me to go there. It was perfectly understandable. He came there for me, thus I should be there for him.

I spent my days reading and writing, as always. There was still a library of books I had to finish, and, though I thoroughly enjoyed meeting with Eric, he was the one depriving me of reading. He was a prince although he claimed he didn't want to be called so. He would annoy me until I put down my book and give my full attention to him. My reading level must be dwindling because of him.

Five days passed and there was no news about Brutus. There was also no message from Eric. I must admit that I miss him. He lightened up my days and made me forget that I was living with a detestable stepfamily. 

My mother once told me that some people could not stay confined in one place for too long. After just six days, I soon realized that I couldn't just stay in the manor for long. When I read my books, even before Eric came, I was often outside. I got used to the scenery and soon I couldn't part with it for long. And I got easily tired of looking at the same things every single day. 

I got my book bag. It was already with the usual: books, notebooks, and writing materials. It was mid-afternoon. I descended from the stairs but before I could get out of the door, Lacrecia blocked me.

"Where are you going?" she said in a lilting voice.

I wanted to say, "Since when did you bother to know?" but I bit my tongue. If I said this, she would never let me out, and this house would be a prison. "Out." 

"Why?" 

"To read." 

"Read what?"

"Obviously, books." 

"Why not here?" 

"It's much better outside." 

"Why is it better outside?" 

"Because I think so." I pushed past her and made my way out. Her questioning was frustrating. 

But her hand lashed out and grabbed me roughly by the shoulder, and with surprising strength, abruptly turned me around to face her. And this happened in a matter of seconds. 

Her intense blue eyes were already narrowed, increasing the penetrating power her eyes seemingly possessed. Then she drawled, "I am very suspicious of your activities, Alva. You are almost never present in Rista…always disappearing to the woods up to something I cannot even fathom. I also wonder on your compassion, stepdaughter, towards that leech of an orphan." Despite the calm countenance that I had tried to surround myself with while Lacrecia spoke, I couldn't help but take a sharp intake of breath at the cruel allusion to Marian.

"Since when did you concern yourself with my doings? I haven't done anything, or anything that would remotely upset you," I replied.

Lacrecia ignored my answer. Instead, she glared even more and hissed, "I will be watching you, Alva, and I will find out who your _friend_ is." 

I stared back at her defiantly and, at the same time, tried to decide whether or not Lacrecia knew about my clandestine friendship with a certain prince. But staying with my stepmother in a staring contest would just complicate things even more, so I turned my back on her and ran out.

Before I could get out of the house, she said in a loud voice. "You better not be conniving with escaped prisoners, Alva!" 

Why ever should I? How ridiculous! She thought I was actually plotting some crime with an escaped prisoner, whose name I didn't know! If Eric were to hear this, he would be laughing so hard. But then, she _had _known that I was meeting someone somewhere. And even though her conclusions had led to an escaped convict, I realized that Eric wouldn't be laughing so hard. Lacrecia knew something, and in time, she would probably know more.

I quickly walked to the same spot in the river. Because of my meetings with Eric there, it came to be a preferred place. In that place we were usually alone, just the two of us. There would some people walking along the other side of the river or far away from that place. But it was different when I arrived.

There was someone there, and I thought it was him. I wanted to run and surprised him, but this was not Eric. He was tall and lean. And lately, whenever I saw him I would be able to identify his identity immediately. But this man's identity did not strike a memory in me, much less come close to Eric; they were wholly different. This man was huge and burly, with a large looming back of a giant's. I hesitated before going there. To go to another place, especially not near this man, would be the best and most reasonable succeeding action I could think of.  First impressions rarely made a huge impact to me, but then, I had to trust my instincts sometimes, and my instinct with regard to this man was to stay away. He was not one to be reckoned with.

I turned to go when he stood up and looked at me straight in the eye. He was scarred in many places, a sure indicator of someone troublesome or a warrior. He walked to me, and I froze, not knowing what to do.

"Be gone, lady, before I change my mind," he bid me. 

I nodded, shaking. Change his mind? Surely he had not meant some cipher for me to analyze. And what in the world would he change his mind on? But all these questions were meaningless unless I found out the identity of this man. My insides were suddenly exposed to the harsh wintry truth: he was probably the escaped prisoner. I was dealing with a dangerous man, and I _had _to go. In a flash, all the learning I had acquired all my life was useless. How could the history of Tryla help me in this crisis? I focused on Juitinati. _"Walk amidst danger in equanimity and you shall pass unharmed."_

He must have had more to say because he stopped me when I made my way. 

"Violet…" he whispered, peering into my eyes. "Violet eyes." 

I involuntarily moved away from him. At first, I was thinking that he was just perverted, or some other term. A maniac, I supposed. But my thoughts couldn't settle on the fact that he was actually a harmless person. I must admit that I was terribly frightened. He pursued me closely with a look in his eyes that made me shake in fear. I couldn't properly explain why but I saw carnality and animalistic nature. My senses could detect the wrongs in this man, yet couldn't point it out clearly. 

"Lady, don't be scared," he told me in a monster voice with a falling mask of kindness. His voice was like a harsh winter, with its bitter coldness and roughness, yet sprinkled with flowers that died immediately. "You remind me of my wife with the same violet lamps." Then he grinned. My steps led me farther from him. His grin repulsed me. It was malevolent and his mouth was filled with rotten teeth. My heart was beating fast and my steps away from him were becoming fast too.

"Don't go, lady." His voice was not used to pleading; I could hear the crack that happened to his voice. "Give me a kiss, to remind me of my wife." 

The thought couldn't quite register in my mind without resulting to a full-blown panic. My face, which had been hot from running, had suddenly become a mere replication made of ice. If only the knowledge of Etenodan mythology could help me in this situation, then maybe I would not feel so helpless. In a flash, all that the learning I had prided myself for crumbled into particles as miniscule as the sands of Rosean beaches. A man—a man whose reputation had proved to be as black as soot and ink together—wanted to kiss me, touch his lips with mine. Sentimental nostalgia be damned! 

A man wanted to kiss me, a girl who had yet to give her first kiss to the one she loved, and the only thing I could do was run. I promptly did so noting that I couldn't do anything, speechless and appalled as I was with his plea. Instead of answering him, I ran away from him. It was what I had wanted to do for a long time now. Whatever he was planning to do with me, it was not for my benefit. It didn't matter whether he would kiss me for the sentimental nostalgia; yes, I must get away!

He still did not run after me, and I calmed down, thinking he would leave me alone. He shouted to me, "A fine figure of a young woman!" Then he ran towards me. He was truly a predator. I realized that he gave me the lead to challenge him, like a raptor to the kill.

I sprinted quicker, forcing my legs to run faster. My skirt was on the way, so I lifted it above my knees. I had always been a fast runner. I ran and ran away from him, with no exact place to go to. I threw my bag at him. It hit him but it didn't do the damage that I wished. 

In my mind were to things: my safety and Eric. I prayed so strongly that he would be there and save me. He was my only hope…he was the one I truly trusted. If by some lucky coincidence he would be here…! He was the one who could get me out of this…

I tripped because of the accursed skirt. He was coming…nearer and nearer. I stood up and ran on, but he was much closer than me. And the gap between us was just a few feet short, much to his delight and much to my dreadfulness. I wasn't going to be under his will without a fight. I ran on but as I did, I bent down and picked up a rather large stone. I hurled it towards him. It him on the head, and he howled in anger and pain.  

I suddenly wished I didn't do it, because his anger propelled all his energy up. His head was bleeding badly, but instead of slowing him down, it made him run faster. I screamed again and again, wishing that someone would hear my cries for help. I felt so helpless, like a rabbit running from a wolf. I could only scream and run, nothing more. But at least the rabbit had a hole to crawl into, if it could escape. Sanctuary was far from me, with the forest as an obstacle before me.

I was as powerful as an ant against a child's breath.

And then he was on me. 

I was cornered by the tree, with him breathing down on me. His arms were on either side of me, not touching, but imprisoning me between him and the tree. But the knowledge that his touch was only a few centimeters from me made my heart run wild inside my body. Only then was I aware that tears were already flowing down my cheeks. His ugly face was contorted with anger and something more…something that I was afraid to define because if I did, I would lose all hope. 

"Lady, you give quite a chase. But a kiss is not enough to pay for what you have done to me," he told me, his behavior and semblance as acrid as his breath. I knew what he meant to do, and this terrified me even more. Tears fell down more quickly. I was not about to plead. I knew it was futile. He would do as he wish…but not without me inflicting more pain upon him. 

I raised my knee and it collided between his legs, the most fragile body part of a man. He yelped in surprise and pain. It might sound so humorous and funny when one hears it, but it wasn't. It was my last desperate act of survival. I wiggled out my captivity and ran again. But he was quick to recover. He ran after me, and then reached for my skirt. It ripped and I fell. He was suddenly standing on top of me. Laughing with glee and triumph. 

I was tired of crying and screaming; it was all useless. I was only straining my throat and eyes. What use was crying and screaming anyway? He wouldn't care if I cried tears of blood, or screamed so much that the earth shook! Instead, I cursed him. I cursed him with words I heard from Caroline and with words that I made up. 

He just laughed.

Guffawed like the mad man that he was.  

I thought I heard my name shouted. At a moment like this, I even had the time to fancy a call from the other side. My demise must be near. 

His face was coming close to mine, and yes, now I knew what it was like to live a nightmare. I wanted to close my eyes so I wouldn't see his ravenous grin, a grin so wide and so filled with yellowed teeth. Monsters from childish stories came…my stomach running through a maze…my heart dancing the fast Vlariet…my face bare against the winter season…

My mind must have found more time to think because suddenly I was thinking of the legends about death…

But I was far away from death.

Someone or something must have struck him from behind for he staggered. I couldn't see it any longer. The shock was more than I could handle and my fear was not subsiding. My heart wished to stop dancing the Vlariet; it was tired from all the spinning. My face was holding tears in the midst of the winter's wrath. But not all hope was lost. Someone was there, depriving him from doing what he wished, and I laid all my trust on that savior. My eyes were closed abruptly. I could hear the brandishes of a sword, the cries of the monster who loved violet eyes. The ground shook with the fall of a large body. 

Winter was embracing me again, loving me with her icicles, numbing me with her frost.

I fainted.


	7. VI

A/N: Hi again!! Yeah yeah, I'm updating now. Üü I'd figure that the cliffie is too…cliffhanging… right. Anyway, some people might be confused on the last parts of the chapter before this. _Winter was embracing me again, loving me with her icicles, numbing me with her frost._ This line is more of an allusion to fainting. Coz when you fight, it feels like your body's blood is drained out. You feel cold but it's not outside, but inside. And in a way, your senses feel numb. And where did I get this?? I am…uhm…hesitant to admit but I once got close to fainting before. Hehe but JUST CLOSE. I didn't faint completely. I just swooned a little bit, felt all those things I mentioned…and then I jolted back to consciousness. Üüü So there. Simply put, that part is kind of loosely based on my own experience but I don't count on this sensation being the same to others…the feeling of fainting might be relative you know… I just want to remind you that FAINTING IS NOT GOOD OR DRAMATIC. It freaked me out then and I ain't anticipating my next near-spell. Hehehe have fun with this chapter!!! I promise you, it would be quite a REVELATION for our dear Alva üüüüüü have fun reading it!!!!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Someone was trying to wake me up, calling my name repeatedly. I could hear the voice and my name but it was as if I was miles and eons away from that voice. I was only aware of darkness. The first thing I felt was numb cold. It was not my skin shivering, but the insides of my body. It was as if I had lost all the blood warming my veins. The second things I felt were two warm hands on each of my shoulders. I opened my eyes, suddenly alert. Eric's face was the first I saw. 

"Alva, will you be alright?" he asked me, his voice weighing with concern.

I sat up, still shaken but nonetheless, fine. I looked around and saw that there were people surrounding that boorish monster. The question partly registered and made me smile a bit because I remembered when he told me he hated asking questions like "Are you alright?" when someone was crying for example. He reasoned, "Why would that person be crying if she weren't alright?"

He was still worried that I didn't answer. I nodded. "Maybe—" I started to say but I couldn't. There was dirt on my face and tears were mingled with it. I was so terrified…upset. I couldn't get my mind together. One part of my mind wanted to cry and cry and wallow in my escape of utter doom. The other part wanted to stand up and kill the bastard. I clenched my fists. 

Eric's arms were around me and he was saying, "We heard your screams." 

I tried not to relive the experience. The events were too fresh in my mind…too wounding. "You know what might have happened," I told him in an angry voice, a voice that surprised me.

He nodded with lividness apparent in his eyes. "He was charged such, and murder. He killed all his victims," he said. My blood ran cold. I was lucky…I could have been another one of his victims. 

I stood up. My gown was filthy with traces of mud, grass stains, dirt, and blood. My gown was ripped up to the knee. I could see a bloody gash on the knee exposed. I looked at my arms. My fall tore at my sleeves and wounded my right elbow. I stared at myself, wondering what I should do. My mind was empty of thoughts.

"We have to get those wounds cleaned," Eric said. He took my hand. "You were lucky and brave. No lady could have defied him the way you did. Your screams were mixed with words we'd hear more often in a seaside dock rather than a forest, but nonetheless, it got our attention before the worse would come." He tried to smile, but he couldn't. He ignored his failure to even lighten up his own mood by continuing. "Ironically, it was he ranting about you trying to kill him. He said that you should be the one charged of attempted murder." 

I supposed he meant to be funny, but I couldn't laugh, and neither could he. The men that accompanied him looked at me, either with awe, pity, or amazement. Then their eyes darted from Eric to me, with concealed interest. There were at least three of them. Two were surrounding the captive. The other approached me. He first looked at Eric questioningly, and Eric nodded. He let go of my hand and went to the two others. He was talking with them in a low tone. I, on the other hand, was with the man. He was short and stocky, and might have been in his older years. His brown hair had a few gray strands and his face was wrinkled. 

"Milady, I am Bertrand. Please, let me take a look at those wounds," he said, bowing to me. I suspected that he was a healer, and all the rest were knights. He examined my wounds quickly and carefully. He opened a bag he was carrying, and I could see bottles of concoctions. 

"You were daring, milady," he told me as he worked. He used some alcohol to clean my wounds. It was stinging. I bit my lip. He then applied a foul smelling ointment from one of his bottles. "And fortunate too. If we were not near, then we might not have been able to rescue you." Then, he finished his business by putting bandages on my wounds. "His Highness is very concerned with your welfare," he added. He smiled a knowing smile, and what he knew, I didn't have any idea.

"Thank you," I replied, uncertain with what I should say to such a vague comment. I moved my arm a little. It was hard to move with the bandages directly on my joint, but at least the healing would proceed soon after. "When will—" but I stopped mid sentence when I realized that I was being watched.

He was staring at me with fury in his eyes. His head was still bleeding slightly, and the blood was dripping down his face. 

I stared back at him, reflecting the rage ten times more. I stared at him harder, and he looked away. "I hate you!" I screamed at him, at the same time standing up and running to him. I swore I might have killed him then with my bare hands, but Eric swiftly came behind me, and held me back. I wanted to jump at the monster, to tear his face with my bare hands, to claw at his eyes until they came out. My imaginings were all so grotesque that I was shocked at myself. But my hate was so great and infinite for him that pity was a distant feeling long buried in my mind.

But there was still Eric, who wouldn't let go of me, whose strong arms prevented me from being as mad as my assailant. If I had not known that I was causing Eric discomfort with my rampaging, I might have continued forever until my hands were smeared with dark blood. Yet, he was a friend so dear to me, and I couldn't bear giving him more worries. I quieted in his arms, breathing deeply, and trying to forget my murderous thoughts.

The knights surrounding him looked at me with surprise. They must have not expected me to talk. But Eric suspected I might do something like that. He knew that I was not one who would sit and weep while watching time race pass. He had known I might do something as unbelievably rash as this, and he was prepared to hold me back.  

"Calm down, Alva," he whispered to my ear. "He will get what he deserves." 

I couldn't look at him, certain that I would completely succumb into weeping if I did. I stared at the ground at my feet, tears almost coming to my eyes at just the mere sound of his soft whisper, so full of messages, yet none clear and answerable. "Are you sure that will happen?" I whispered back with almost no life. "How many would have to suffer before it does?" 

"It will happen," he answered protectively, his arms enclosing me even more, refusing to let go. "And no one will suffer any longer, least of all you."

There was a silent curtain around us, until I was suddenly—painfully—conscious of the quizzical stares we were receiving. At that awakening sign, he left me, and went to the knights. I watched as my living nightmare of all of the villains in Trylan, Rosean, Misethan, and Etenodan lore was taken away from this place. Eric told them that they take him immediately to the palace, to be tried once again. I sat down on the dirt, not caring that I would be soiled again, only trying to erase all those events. I didn't realize that Eric stayed behind with me. 

I was slightly shaking either with anxiety or anger. He was sitting beside me, leaving me alone. I laid down my head on his shoulder, seeking comfort. He let me. 

"When we arrived, I thought you were dead…" he said suddenly. "I thought we came too late. I charged to him but I didn't kill him. Are you sorry that I didn't?"

"No…" I replied immediately but my voice fading away. "I do not want you to be like him." Yes, I wanted him dead and buried, if not burned alive, but I didn't want Eric's hands stained with his blood. "Were you truly worried?" 

He nodded. "You don't know how much I feared when I saw you. It's my entire fault. I should have told you. Warned you. But I didn't know how."  

I was baffled. "Why couldn't you tell me?" 

He hesitated before answering me. When he did, his words came out slowly, carefully. "You would take into heart, more personally than all the other ladies who knew the details of this criminal. But I should have known that awareness would make you more cautious." His voice was regretful. I touched his arm, trying to comfort him too.

"It's not your fault," I said.

His next words shocked me. And he was right; it was a terrible blow to me. "His victims were two young girls. They had eyes like yours. He would trick them into saying his wife had eyes like those, but in truth, he has no wife. He only wished to have a diversion, an excuse. He lusts after those eyes, Alva, for no reason at all." 

My hand reached up to my face. There was nothing to my eyes. It was the cause of a crime, and now it almost occurred again. I couldn't say anything, as my voice was momentarily snatched away by the shock I was feeling. I closed my eyes, hoping that when I opened them, they would no longer be the color of violet. But I opened them, and I knew they were still in that hue. "Tell me," I told Eric. "Tell me if there is something more to these eyes aside from hatred and pain," I whispered furiously. "But, after all, history is but a cycle we must tread upon. And I almost tripped on a rock that had been encountered before by my ancestor."

He took my hand that was on my face, and held it tightly. Then he replied, with more strength and persuasion than I had ever encountered before. "There are more to your eyes than hatred and pain," he said. "You underestimate yourself because there is infinitely more to you that just the color of your eyes. Intelligence and cunning. Beauty and courage. Those are the things that matter, not the color, not the past, not the events you have no say in." 

"I'm not beautiful," I said to him, my voice bitter. "And my courage was driven by cowardice. Had I not feared my life, then I would not have fought with all that I can. And what is intelligence and cunning, if they offered no assistance or consolation? My intelligence and cunning—if I even have one—did not help me in trying to avoid this. I was stupid enough to think that the forest was a haven from criminality." I laughed acridly. "Come to think of it, the forest practically breeds that strain of humanity."

He shook his head. "In time, Alva, you will see all the things you refuse to believe, and all the things that I always see but you are blind to." He stood up, and pulled my hand with him. "I must get you home now. I don't want your family worrying." 

"They don't care anyway." I stood up. He helped me up Nodnal, who was pawing the ground, and appeared to be empathic to the agitated mood. I sat in front Eric, and saddled myself on his lap. To keep myself from falling, I placed one hand behind him. The ride back to the manor was quiet. I couldn't say much, and neither could he. I leaned my head on his chest, savoring the warmth him, the fast yet steady drum of his heart. I didn't know how to express my gratitude to him. I wanted to tell him that I couldn't live without our friendship. I wanted to tell him how appreciative I was for his concern over me. 

I also wished to tell him that I prayed he would come and rescue me. But he would wonder why I did, and soon his conclusions would come across the truth. 

The truth that I realized then and there, that I had loved him long before, and it took me this much to admit it to myself. It explained all my longing for him, all the nights spent on thinking about him, all the worry I felt whenever he was gone. Oh and how I longed to tell him!  To exult my feelings for him, to let go of the burden of keeping it secret!

But it would drive him away, and I wouldn't lose something I couldn't bear to part with. I kept my thoughts to myself.

The ride was long because Eric made Nodnal walk slow, mindful of me. Nodnal didn't like it; he preferred running to walking. No wonder he and Eric were perfect for each other. My hypnagogic state was making me think of random things. Soon, slumber overcame me. I woke up when we were near the manor.

Someone must have seen us from the manor before we got there; when we did arrive to the front door, my stepfamily was already out, welcoming us. Their eyes were only on Eric. Barbara, my maid, gasped when she saw me. I was still dirty and my gown was still soiled. 

Lacrecia curtsied deeply. "Your Highness, a pleasure to see you. What may we do for you?" Her eyes didn't linger on me for a second. But my eyes lingered on her for more than a second. I suspected that she did prepare for his coming. I glanced at Caroline and saw that she was wearing those chandelier-like earrings she bought a week before.

Barbara, on the other hand, was already on me, helping me down from Nodnal. She was crying slightly, wondering what had happened to me. "Alva! What happened?" she wailed.

I got down from Nodnal and went to her. I turned to Eric. He was looking at Lacrecia with incredulity. When Caroline approached and introduced herself, his incredulity turned into revulsion, something I had not seen before. 

"Come inside, your Majesty, and have a cup of tea," Caroline beckoned in an inviting voice. She didn't even care about Barbara's cries. When Eric didn't say anything, she added seductively, "Our tea is from Etenod, the finest in all the land."

Edith stood ran from behind Caroline. She surprised me by approaching me and lifting my wrist. In a soft tone, she said, "We have to get her to her room immediately." Her voice was upset. 

"Shush, Barbara, Edith," I said in a soft voice. "I am fine…" 

But she was not convinced. She, despite her status, puffed up and demanded of Eric, "What happened to my darling, Alva?" Her voice was loud and serious. I could see that Lacrecia was practically appalled with Barbara's attitude. 

 "Your Highness, please ignore my maid's behavior." She curtsied again. Eric disregarded her. He got down from his horse. "Now what wrongs has my stepdaughter done to displease you?" she glared at me with pure hatred.

"No wrongs done by her but wrongs done unto her. She was almost assaulted by Brutus Elohas, an escaped convict," he said bluntly. Barbara gasped again and cried harder. Edith was horrified when she heard. Her face immediately paled. She embraced me tightly and stroked my hair.

Lacrecia and Caroline exchanged looks of indignity. "Oh my" was all the two could say. 

"Oh lady, my poor lady," Barbara hugged me harder. Then she led me inside. I looked back at Eric, but he was too busy believing that Lacrecia and Caroline had nonchalance on this matter. Edith was right beside me, clasping my hand. She was hiccupping uncharacteristically. Outside, I could hear Eric talking but his words were not clear. I heard footsteps. Barbara and Edith were supporting me, trying to get me to stand properly. 

We reached the bedroom, and made me lie on my bed. I couldn't lie down. Edith and Barbara were fussing on me. Edith had a gown in her arms and Barbara was trying to take off my filthy gown.

"Dear, dear, what happened?" she asked me.

I was no longer crying. "You heard what he said. It's true. I was almost—" Edith placed her hand on my mouth. Her eyes were troubled. 

"You need not say, Alva. We know." 

Barbara succeeded in taking off my gown, leaving me with my shift. She put the new gown over my head. "You should not have come outside, milady!" She looked at my bandaged wounds and almost cried again. "Oh! Look at you, with injuries!" 

"I didn't know I was in danger," I reasoned.

Edith left my side and went outside. After a few moments, she returned with a bowl of cold water and a washcloth. She held it while Barbara dipped the washcloth and wiped my face. I could feel the grime being cleaned from my face. 

"Mother and Caroline are downstairs, trying to entertain his Majesty," Edith said. "I saw them when I went down." 

I shook my head. "They truly are master scavengers of opportunity. They're making a fortune out of my misfortune. I knew that if I were to die, they wouldn't care." 

Barbara cleaned my face more eagerly. "Don't say that, Alva!" 

"I will care, and so will Barbara. And the other maids," Edith said. 

"Why do you care, Edith?" I asked. She was different now. Before this, I might have thought that Edith would just stare at me without expression. But she was beside me, trying to make my condition better.

"I admire you." And in one sentence, all her sidelong glances, the rare gleam in her eyes, and the unexplainable room the windows of her soul exposed were explained.

 "Why?"

Edith smiled. "Because…because everything that you are, I once wished to be." 

I realized that Edith was just the same as I. She was not entirely loved by Lacrecia, who showered all her affections on Caroline. I might have been too selfish to realize that I wasn't the only one ignored in a family. It should hurt even more for Edith because Lacrecia and Caroline were her only family. Yet they ignored her. I didn't wonder why Edith was the way she was around her family. She must have learned, long before, that no matter what she did, no matter how dramatic her actions would be, she would always be ignored. She must have thought that she shouldn't waste her energies on something entirely futile.

I couldn't erase from my mind Eric's face when Lacrecia came to him. I never saw it before. I didn't know why he should be angry about it. I have told him before their courtesies towards me. Yet his face said that he wanted to protect me. 

I couldn't understand him, nor could I speak with him. When I was able to go downstairs, Lacrecia and Caroline were beaming, and Eric was no longer there. 

~*~

I was being pursued in the susurrus forest. I didn't know by whom. All I knew was that he was this huge looming shadow that intended harm upon me. When he passed by something—a tree or a shrub— that something would shrivel up and be swallowed by his darkness. The trees died when they touched him. I could hear their screams as the decay fast climbed up from their buried roots to their uncovered leaves. 

_I kept on running and running but it seemed that the ground moved back as I ran forward. I was going nowhere, I knew it. But I kept on running, exhausting all my energies, drenching myself with sweat._

_But the ground did not move underneath the feet of the monster that pursued me relentlessly. He could move, he could run, he could reach me._

_I heard a laugh that echoed the screams of a thousand tortured souls. I saw the eyes that mirrored the mangled corpses of a thousand murdered people. I felt the suffocating cloud of breath that warned a thousand frantic preys of his inescapable domination over them. _

_And I became one of those thousand souls, corpses, and preys. As darkness wrapped around me like a spider's thread  around a captured insect, all the stars in the sky disappeared, the sun lost its rays, the child had run away from her mother, the words in a book were erased, and life was seized by death. _

I screamed. The sheets surrounding me were wet with sweat and I found myself entangled by the blankets. My hair was in disarray. It was still night.

This dream had been plaguing me for two nights now. And for two days, I have confined myself in my room, afraid to come out. I was frightened to be in danger once again. Barbara and Edith accompanied me sometimes. I would often just look out the window, trying to forget what happened. 

Yesterday, I saw Eric come to the manor. I knew he wanted to diminish all notions of my infirmity, but he wasn't permitted to. Barbara and Edith told me that as soon as he stepped on the manor, he was dragged away to some part of the house to have a nice conversation. But somehow, I could feel his apprehension for me. 

"Mistress Lacrecia and Lady Caroline act as if Prince Eric came for Lady Caroline. Before he left, he asked me how you fared. I said, 'Lady Alva's fine, but refuses to come out of her room.' He looked at me so sadly, Alva, sweet," Barbara told me. "He cares for you more deeply that you think, Alva, dear, but you don't seem to notice." 

"He cares for me because he is my friend," I answered, disallowing any harborage of romantic disillusions. 

"But if he is your friend, then you will comfort him by coming out. Why won't you do both of yourselves a favor and come out once and for all?" Barbara implored. 

I did wish to come out but I was still so scared and traumatized by the event. The memory played itself over and over again, like the sun rising and setting every single day. It gripped me too tightly, and I couldn't seem to escape the shell of fear that enclosed me. 

Barbara tried all the ways she could imagine just to get me out. She said there was a legion of soldiers ready to barge in my door if I were not to come out. She even went as far as saying that their Majesties had issued an order for me to come out. But all endeavors were all in vain, because nothing could get me out. I supposed that there was this one person that _could_ but he wasn't allowed to. 

I stared at the darkness enveloping my bedroom. The only clear thing I could see was the white sheets of my bed. I sighed. This dream had been with me and I wished it to be gone. 

This dream would be with me forever if I cower away from it. The only cure to it was to stand up and go out the very next day. I had done this before. When Mother died, I stood up and walked on my own. Her death didn't stop me but also helped me in being strong. I did it for Mother's love, but now, it was not for Mother or Father. I would be doing this for myself. 

_He cannot stop me. I will still go on living; I might as well make the most of it._


	8. VII

The sky was filled with clouds that resembled shapes. I smiled as I tried to make out the clouds into objects. A cotton plant, a hairbrush, one of the statues in the Garden Heart. As I looked up, my hair was blown softly the cool air that swept through the forest and sent small ripples in the river water. The chirps of the birds hiding in the trees seemed to greet happily the golden rays of the sun. I closed my eyes. Yesterday, I came out, but Barbara insisted on following me, to make sure I was safe. It was not exactly pleasing because she hardly permitted me to sit down. Dirt on the ground will cling to your gown, she reasoned. Today, I decided to come out _alone_. I had picked a perfect day to come out of my seclusion—but the path to this satisfaction was not easy.

Lacrecia bombarded me with questions. She would not let me out without a chaperone, which I objected to rather violently. She declared me a leech that fed off her achievements. She barred me form the door and refused to let me come out. She had this berserk look in her face that I couldn't understand. It was unlike her to be so…explicit about her emotions. I didn't know why she wanted me to stay in one place; all I knew was that I was already angry with her for a whole lot of reasons. What I did was that I pushed her away from the door, and I screamed at her. I said she was the leech and that she didn't have the right to lock me up in the house. When I pushed her away, I ran off. She stayed there but threatened that if I was not back by sunset, I would not be allowed in.

My mood was already declining.

I was in the same spot where I obtained friendship and serenity, and encountered danger. I was no longer afraid of that place. I shouldn't be. Actually, I should be overjoyed to be in that place. In that place I learned to be courageous and steadfast. 

Was what Eric said true? That my eyes showed beauty, bravery, cunning, and intelligence? After that terrifying moment, I could no longer stare hard into my eyes. Hard enough to realize its color. I couldn't see beauty in them. I was not beautiful. I could see bravery, but not much. I could see cunning and intelligence…

I took off my shoes. They were pinching my toes. I looked again at the river and had a wild idea. I grabbed my skirt up to the knee and ran to the river, splashing water here and there. I smiled. It was cooling and refreshing to my feet. I walked farther.

I was still thinking of Lacrecia. My blood curdled when I thought of that moment a few minutes ago…

"Alva!" someone shouted. I turned around.

It was my friend. I waved my hand. I could see him shaking his head. He went down form Nodnal and approached me.

"What are you doing?" he asked me.

I was rather snappy that moment. "Wading in the river. Why? Did you think I would drown myself?" I replied sardonically.

"Not really." He stepped into the water and came nearer to me. "It makes me wonder though, why you are doing this."

"I just want to," I replied dryly.

He laughed too. "Come back here!"

I shrugged my shoulders and walked to the shore. I grabbed his hand and dragged him along. "Why are you here anyway? I thought you knew I was confining myself to my room."

"I come here every day ever since we met," he explained.

I wanted to ask him why he did so but I decided against it. Maybe he just wanted to savor the scenery and tranquility that I loved in this place. Also, I was preoccupied with trying to get out of the river without fully drenching my skirt.

We reached the shore and I sank to the ground. 

"You said you come here every day, but I was here yesterday. Where were you?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulder. "I was having a lovely time with Lady Lacrecia and her daughter, Lady Caroline," he replied sarcastically. "I came there, but Barbara wasn't there to warn me that they were there."

"She was with me. What a lovely conversation you must have had with Lacrecia and Caroline," I told him.

He frowned. "No, I didn't. They kept insisting that I talk all the time. And they keep asking about things they most likely know also."

"You haven't heard the worst."

"Why did you lock yourself up?" he asked tactfully.

I stared at the ground. My mood was beginning to lighten up…"I was frightened," I replied shamefully. "It's irrational but I was. And awfully scared…"

"You shouldn't be. You got through a dilemma other ladies cannot have escaped unharmed. And you even harmed your pursuer." He grinned. "I believe you hurt him bad."

I remembered his bleeding head. "It wasn't much. It didn't slow him down."

"And I hear from him that you gave pain to his—" he laughed loudly. I knew what he meant, and even though my mood was not at its best, I laughed along with him. Somehow, he could make me laugh at the most dire situations. "—manhood," he finished with difficulty.

Then I was grave. "And he almost snatched my maidenhead."

He stopped laughing and nodded. "It's no laughing matter…and I suggest that we forget about it."

I agreed. "I don't want to remember it anyway."

"I also advise that you not go to Court."

"Why?"

"They all know you more than before. They will ask questions about that occasion. But they admire you."

"There's nothing to admire," I replied ruefully. Well, now they had another thing to add to their book of gossips especially for me. "You saved me. I didn't save myself. If you didn't come, then I would be dead. I did what every lady should do. I screamed and screamed for help."

"You fought him. You made his head bleed and his groin sore. You made sure you would not go down with a fight. Do you think another lady in your place could have done that?"

"Maybe…who knows?"

"No one could. Those two other girls yielded to his brutality. You wouldn't allow that. You didn't yield, you fought tooth and nail, and you got out of it successfully."

I frowned. "But I still need _my knight in shining armor_." My voice was sarcastic, meant to insult. But Eric just chuckled.

"Is that what you think I was? A knight in shining armor? Should I whisk you away and marry you then, damsel in distress?"

I stifled a laugh. "Marry you?" I told him incredulously. But inside my mind there were visions of a future. "I don't think so."

 "Am I that horrid that you'd rather suffer than marry me? What's wrong with me then?" he demanded, his eyes danced with good humor.

I shrugged my shoulders. "You're not horrible…" I said carefully. "It's just that we're friends, Eric. And friends remain friends." Those words stung me. _Yes, friends must be friends, so don't tell him what you truly feel._

He looked at me, and I was suddenly aware that our faces were inches close. "Are you sure about that?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Of course I am." Liar. "Why else would I say it? Besides, do you want me to marry you? That would be ridiculous."

"You're right. Why did I even think about that?" he asked, and then he tried to smile. "To marry you might be the biggest mistake. I would be stuck with you day and night." Did he not want to be with me? Did he just treat our friendship as nothing?

"If you don't want to be stuck with me day and night, why are you here?"

"I'm not stuck with you the whole day. One whole day with you equals madness."

I fumed. I didn't know why exactly. I supposed all my negativity was coming out in arguments and utter shallowness. "If you don't really want to talk with me then fine!" How dare he! How dare he imply that he didn't want to be sitting next to me! "It's not me who's wasting time. It's you."

He looked at me, shocked. "You're talking nonsense!"

"As if you're not. When did I ever talk nonsense?"

He stood up too, staring at me squarely. "Now! You're talking nonsensically now!"

"If I am, then my nonsensicality is compensating for your foolhardiness. I should have known that you were just with me so then you could have someone to toy around me!" I suddenly had a revelation that was…wrong. Why else would the prince of my land befriend me? Obviously, it was not because he was interested. He only wanted someone to toy with. And to think… There were more ladies having more suitors, more grace, more beauty, and more allure than me.

"I'm not toying around with you!" he replied, angrily but also confused. "If I am then I should have you wrapped around my finger now!"

But I _was_ wrapped around his finger. I was in love with him. And it was true…he just said it. He was toying with me, and he succeeded, he just didn't know. It _was _nothing, our friendship, him saving me, him being worried…nothing. I shook my head.

"You could have all the ladies in the Court to toy around with but no! You will not have me as part of your collection!" I turned my back. "How could I not see that I'm just a plain girl and you're the prince? How could I not see that it would be impossible…?"

His hand was on my shoulder. "No, that's not what I meant."

"Wrapped around your finger? Well you almost had me." I walked away.

"Where are you going?" Eric cried. I could hear…no…I didn't.

I didn't answer. I couldn't bear to be near him. I had just come out from my seclusion and here was a situation much worse than the last. Last time, there was hope for salvation, for fighting back. This time it was I who was causing the trouble…and this silly pride prevented me from going back.

"Stop!"

I started running.

"Fine! Then leave!" I could sense that he had stopped following me.

But I couldn't hear him any longer. I couldn't….I blocked all my senses. My heart ached. I loved him. I trusted him. He saved me. He was there when I needed him. And now I was losing him… _What was wrong with me?_

How could I have done this to the both of us? Falling in love with him must have been the greatest mistake that I have ever made myself commit. Love was supposed to bind people together, not separate them even _before_ it even started! And I should have known it was all wrong from the beginning. I didn't know if he felt the same way. And I would be damned if he felt the same way as I did. He was for the finest ladies of the realm, not an impertinent bluestocking and idealist who sulked in one corner. Especially one who had lived a life shrouded with snide remarks.

I reached the manor. I ran to my bedroom and collapsed on my bed. Only then did I realize that I committed the greatest, most effusive mistake of my life but my pride prevented me from admitting it. I was doomed to suffer the consequences.

I thought I had adequate knowledge of the world. But I had forgotten to understand it.

Days passed. I kept on trying to force myself to find him, but it would be futile. For certain, his anger with me was insurmountable. He would never forgive me. It was my entire fault. If I had stopped and tried to be light and unserious about things, then maybe things might have turned out differently. I would still have a great friend and my heart wouldn't be in pieces. He must have been kidding but I was too thick to understand.

_I can't face him now_, I thought melancholically. I was in the window seat of my room, looking at the direction facing the river. _Not after what I did._

I tried to get myself to feel indifferently towards him, but I just couldn't. There were those feelings that stayed there inside me with an immoveable anchor. Before, I was thinking how ridiculous I was, falling in love with a man who every lady wanted to get their hands on. Now, I was feeling even more preposterous being in love with a man who might be cursing my name right now.

Lacrecia and Caroline confirmed Eric's anger with me.

The next two days they arrived from their usual Court visit bearing gossip. Usually it was about ladies but now it was about Eric. They all talked about it while having tea. I tried not to be nonchalant but deep inside I was tearing apart.

"He was in a sour mood some few days back," Lacrecia said. She was shaking her head. "He refused to speak with anyone regarding the reason behind his mood."

Caroline nodded. "But now, he suddenly changed. His Highness was with ladies, speaking with them, spending time…" she smiled prettily. "He spent a whole afternoon with me."

I looked down. He was forgetting me already while I was here, wallowing in my despair. I fought my tears. He could so easily replace me with all the other ladies. I was just a small pitiful weed in a garden of roses. He could harvest the roses, but he chose to pick on the weed. He could twist the weed into many kinds of shapes, then drop in on the ground and pursue prettier things.

"How nice," I replied, not really caring.

She raised an eyebrow to me. "Actually, I have to thank you. Because if you weren't nearly killed then he would never know me!"

She was _actually _rejoicing on my own experience between life and death! I should have been angry, but I quelled down my emotions. Her motive was to annoy me, to anger me. I was not going to let her win. Besides, I was expecting this long before the incident had happened. "I am happy that my own suffering contributed to your beautiful perfect life," I answered sarcastically. I sipped my tea.

Caroline was not yet finished wallowing in her victory. "Are you jealous? So many ladies are envious of me."

I sipped my tea again. "He was my knight in shining armor, Caroline. What makes you think I'm envious of you? The mere mention of his existence relives that frightening moment. Do you think I wish to be reminded of that?"

"He rescued you! Doesn't that give you a little exceptionality—since you have none?" This smug look was in her face, but there was also jealousy.

I laughed because of her envy. "I'm exceptional already without that. And frankly, anyone would do. Tell me; do wish to be in the edge of life and death just for him to rescue you? What if he doesn't come? Besides, I will not dwell with the fact that our prince rescued me or that he spend a whole afternoon with me alone." I laughed but deep inside I was falling apart. I couldn't even think about Eric without feeling some kind of strong emotion, what more if I would meet him face to face?

Caroline realized that I was insulting her, telling her that she dwelt with that fact alone. She was suddenly talking at me with a fast mouth, cursing and intimidating me. I ignored her and finished my tea. "Sailors' talk is not fitting of you," I told her coldly. I stood up and left the room.

Author's Note:

I'm so sorry! I know it's been a millennium since I last updated, and I'm very sorry!!!! I've been swamped with so many things to do!!! I'm so sorry!!!!!!!!! Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry

Yeah that's how sorry I am…

Hope you'll forgive me and like the delayed chapter.


	9. VIII

Tryla never ran out of celebrations, as I had concluded before. And although circumstances led me to the least celebratory mood, I would still have to attend another ball out of many, many more. The ball that would be held in a week was in commemoration of the Garden Heart of Tryla. The ball would be at night, in the gardens. In this ball one must dress up as one of the sovereigns. It would be an outdoor ball, of course. It would be a shame if it would rain but it could happen. Apparently, the weather was empathic to my moods, and currently it was as dark as mine. The skies were clouded but it never rained. The clouds had been holding their load for quite some time now, and the ball to be held should not an exception on all the other days. I doubt it would rain during the ball. Although, it would be a cruel yet funny twist of weather. The thought of nobles running for cover from fat raindrops almost made me smile. _Almost._

Caroline was now more anxious of this ball. She said that Eric didn't see much of her in the last ball. She implied that it was my fault. She actually sketched a ball gown just for it. She decided to dress up as Queen Rosanna, the queen known for her impeccable fashion. I saw her revolting—and there was no other word to describe it—sketch—if you called that crumpled piece of paper with doodles a sketch. The skirt was billowing. It was the only detail I saw before she ferociously pulled me away from it, almost ripping my gown.

I didn't care about my clothes now. I didn't plan on being Queen Regina. It provoked too many painful memories. She was my idol, but no, not now. It was too distinguishable.

It was not that I wanted to go to the ball. Actually, I didn't want to. But Lacrecia would have my head if I didn't. She wanted all of us to be there, to display an "ideal" family image. Image was the only thing that really mattered to her, next to Caroline's wealth and prosperity.

Edith soon returned to her normal self, although her subtle messages to me were not so cryptic now. She gave more importance to the ball this time. She carefully thought of her costume and she emerged as Queen Melisande. She was one of the queens who were not very known. She was said to be docile and obedient to her husband, and that was all. She suited her.

I chose Queen Seema. She was the first queen. My gown was simple, like her. She was the conservative and quiet queen. She didn't engage in extravagance. She was the paragon of simple elegance. I didn't need to buy what I already have. My gown was a dark violet and lavender. It was off the shoulder with bell sleeves. The gown parted in the middle to reveal the color lavender. My necklace was the black choker with porcelain lavenders. It was once my mother's. A mask was not needed in this ball, so I didn't bother wasting my money.

"I don't think I should go to this ball," I confided to Barbara who was fixing my hair. She insisted she do it; we argued and she won. She was tugging at my hair.

She sighed. "Why don't you want to go, dear?" Barbara was near to a mother. She wanted me to go out there and have fun, like every other lady would do in such an occasion. She also wished me to look my best.

I couldn't tell her that I didn't want to see Eric. "Well…I don't think it's necessary."

"Alva, sweets, I won't be fixing your hair if this ball isn't necessary."

I frowned. "How could dancing and reveling be necessary? I will just dance. And then try to compete with the attention I got with all the other ladies. Besides, I don't know much about the Court…"

Barbara smirked. "Honey, I know you all to well to justify the fact that you know everything about Court without going there. It's not about dancing…it's about looking your best. Your mother will be so proud if you came out like her, a butterfly. And dancing! Why, you dance well; there is nothing to worry about! Also, this ball is for the Garden Heart. To commemorate our rulers! Is that a valid reason?"

"Yes…" I sighed. She was right. I felt her tug my hair to the right. "What are you doing?" I asked. There wasn't a mirror. Barbara hated fixing my hair while staring at a duplicate in front her.

"Something that will suit you. Darling you are very beautiful, beautiful like your mother," she told me adoringly. I sighed. Barbara was always like that. She admired me when I really wasn't supposed to be.

"Barbara you know I'm not beautiful. Mother is, but not me." Sometimes, when I looked in the mirror, I wondered why I had to have the black hair and strange eyes. Would I be more comely if I earned Mother's auburn hair and Father's blue eyes? Maybe I could use being a bit taller. Mother was petite, and I was lucky to have outgrown her by a few inches. I was fortunate being slender, and not skinny, like the some other girls my age.

I could feel her combing my hair. "Have you seen yourself lately Alva?" she asked sternly. I nodded. "Well, you don't see what I see then. You think to lowly of yourself."

"A lady's beauty is measured by the number of her suitors," I quoted Mother. "I am already sixteen yet I have no suitors, thus I am not beautiful," I added. One might say that sixteen was yet a fresh age for wooing. It was not, of course. Girls marry as young as twelve in Tryla. Caroline had many wooers, and she was already eighteen. But the reason behind was that she rejected them all, one by one. She reasoned that not one was worthy enough, but in my opinion, she unworthy of each of them.

"Sometimes I do not understand you, Alva. You are so pushy but you listen to your mother's strange commandments. I love Lady Fiala, but sometimes she could be so…priggish." I laughed. She was right. She fixed my hair for a little more then handed me a mirror.

My hair was in two braids with ribbons like before. The ribbons were lavender. Barbara coiled them around the sides of my head, giving me two buns to deal with. Barbara had an encyclopedic knowledge of Court fashion. This was Queen Seema's hair. She did a splendid job and I actually thought that I was beautiful. I supposed that I was, maybe a little. My eyes were a little too big, huge and wondering. My cheeks were always rosy, which I never really liked. My skin was not milksop pale as many had preferred, but more of a pecan color—the result of the sun. I looked like a healthy, vigorous girl who much preferred the outdoors than the indoors—well, it was true, and I did not regret what I look like now.

I donned my gown and wished that I didn't have to go. This ball was a waste of time and energy. I hated dancing, never wanted to speak with gossipers, and I'd much prefer to sit and read a book. Besides, I would see _him_. He would be surrounded by fawning ladies and I would be in one corner, trying not to care. And I would probably fail miserably, because I could adumbrate myself watching him and his ladies, and wishing I was one of those girls. Indeed, trying not to care when every word spoken by a lady to him would be a blow sent straight to my already viridescent heart.

Caroline was practically fluttering with joy. She floated down the staircase in graceful ease yet excited anticipation. Edith had now shown a more human side, rather than the stoic statue I had witnessed all the time. When she came down, she was smiling. Lacrecia was still beaming at Caroline. I rolled my eyes. I had begged Lacrecia to not take me but she would hear none of it. It was probably because I would glad not to come, and she wanted me to be miserable in the ball.

I felt like I was Edith, just staring out into blank space with no particular thought. I was just staring out the window, wondering about my impending doom.

When we arrived, we were led to the ball. It was in the Heart. Tables of food were in one corner and a few chairs were on the other. An abundant number of torches lighted the garden. There were many about. Some were already dancing. Others were mingling with their fellow courtiers. The King and Queen were observing the ball from their makeshift thrones. Princess Penelope was dancing. She was very attractive today. She was probably dressed as Queen Rosanna. Princess Rosena was speaking with young men. She was not as facially gifted as Penelope but she had a charming personality.

Caroline left us in search of his Highness. Lacrecia spoke with an old friend. I didn't know she had friends. I sat down on one of the chairs, not caring. Edith sat beside me.

"Are you not dancing?" I asked.

"If someone asks, then I will oblige."

Edith was always light with her feet. She was a much better dancer than I. She stared at the people dancing. She was frowning. "One of them doesn't know how to dance."

"Why so?"

"She starts with her left when she should start with the right."

"Oh."

Someone was suddenly in front me. He was grinning. He held his hand to me. "Will you give me the pleasure of dancing with you, my fair lady?"

I glanced at Edith. She nodded with the smallest of smiles. I took his hand. The dance was moderately difficult but fortunately, I was able to keep up with the music.

Vlariet was the type of dance. I was absentmindedly reviewing the facts I knew about it. It started sixty years ago, in the Court of King Tristan. It was a peasant dance, although it was modified to suit courtly affairs. The music was fast. The footwork was a combination of chasses and box-steps. There was constant spinning.

I was suddenly aware that my partner, Raoul, was speaking with me. "Lady Alva, how come I do not see you in Court often?"

"I didn't think my presence was needed," I replied.

"But your presence will grace the Court of Tryla," he said. He was trying to charm me. I supposed I should have been flattered, but then, I really was immune to this.

I shook my head. At the corner of my eye I saw Eric. He was speaking with a lady with blond hair. I understood her name was Amanda. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and I actually felt a pang of jealousy. Could it be that I still had feelings for him? No!

Liar.

Amanda laughed. He was laughing with her. My envy grew. If he could have fun with another, then I could most certainly can! I smiled at Raoul. I supposed he took it as a sign of happiness. He spoke with me, but his words were empty. He could only speak about our surroundings. What interest did I have to the weather now? As far as I was concerned, the clouds were not seen because it was night and the wind was chilly. I tried to talk to him about the current trial of Brutus Elohas and he looked at me with astonishment.

"Milady, I suppose you don't want to hear about it," he said to me.

My eyes clearly showed I was bemused. "Why not? Don't I have the right to know?"

He nodded. "Lady Alva, since you are so greatly concerned with this issue, I prefer not to talk about it."

"But I do have the right to know even though I fought against him and he almost killed me," I replied in a sweet voice.

Raoul would not look at me. "His sins are unforgivable. But how come you take it so lightly?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "When it's done, it's done. I shouldn't burden my future with the past."

The dance ended. I would willingly want to dance with him again just to continue our conversation, but his next words stopped me.

"Milady, this matter may concern you. But ladies are not encouraged to take part of it."

My fury was unexplainable. I didn't answer him, but instead I turned my back to him and left. It was rude, but he was rude also. And he was being unfair. I had the right to know about my assaulter. He might have been the end of my life, or the beginning of my disgrace. I shuddered at the memory. It was a terrible feeling, just remembering it, but talking about it made me feel lucky and proud to have escaped it.

I decided to tone down my anger by observing more of the ball. Caroline was in one corner, surrounded by young men. Lacrecia was still speaking with some other people. Edith was dancing. When I saw her, only then did I appreciate her grace. This was a fast dance. She carried out the steps with unbelievable ease while the other ladies unmistakably blundered.

Amanda was now dancing with Eric. I frowned. He was enjoying his time away from me, and I was practically alone. I bit my lip. I hated him but I loved him. I noticed his eyes land on me. For a moment, I thought he wanted to come to me. But I was probably dreaming. His status made him the most sought after bachelor. Besides, there were too many ladies before me that he should pay attention to.

My mood was practically stormy. And when a young man sat beside me and tried to speak with me, it went lower. His words were also empty and filled only with praise and flattery. He said I was beautiful. He said that when I danced awhile ago, I was like floating in clouds. He said I was an exquisite flower among weeds. I suddenly wanted to punch him. Could he shut up for a moment and _leave me be_? He had to leave my side because his sister was calling him. I wanted to look for his sister and kiss her. He was boring me. I didn't even try to remember his name.

Before more young men sit beside me, I stood up and wandered the gardens. It was dark but it seemed like the flowers glowed from the gloom. The white roses stood out from the darkness, whilst the red roses didn't. The air was heavy with their fragrance. The wind was beginning to freeze me. I decided to come back so then I could eat something from the refreshments table.

When I was near the exact spot of the ball, I realized that the weather seemed to empathic to my mood. I thought I was hallucinating when I felt a drop fall on my hand. Then another. And another. Soon it was raining hard. I could hear screams from the ladies. I saw them covering their heads and running to the nearest shelter.

But I couldn't run with them, and although the rain ruined the ball, it seemed to hypnotize me. The splatters of raindrops on the leaves echoed in my mind, soothing me. When I glanced at the statues of the former rulers, I almost laughed. The raindrops slip from their faces, making them look like they were crying. At least some filth was being washed away. I looked up and smiled. The rain was calming me down, making things better. And although everybody despaired about the ball being halted temporarily, I was there, standing on the garden, letting the rain fall on me.

It was relaxing. The rain fell on my face and continued down my gown. Soon, I was drenched. But I didn't care. I closed my eyes and savored it. For a moment, I thought it was just me in this world of water. Time stopped for me. It stopped just to prolong my tranquility.

But it ended. My mind screamed at me suddenly, reprimanding me for putting myself in such trouble. I was soaked through and through. An illness was probably not far away.

I walked to the nearest shelter when I realized that someone was observing me. The person was standing in a roofed area. There were no other spectators. The light from the windows of the ballroom made me conclude that they all resumed their celebration inside. The person was carrying a mantle.

Eric smiled when I neared him.

"Don't go without this."

Author's Note:

It is utterly unforgivable for me to make you all wait for 2 years…so I hope this can be a compensation :-)

-Nayie (http/wansapanataym.i.ph)


	10. IX

He handed me the mantle. I didn't take it, but instead, I turned my back on him and decided then and there that the rain was better punishment. Common sense had deserted me completely. What was sickness compared to my pride being ripped to shreds? I couldn't even imagine his face in my mind without feeling shame. How could I face him now, after how horribly I had treated him? After how I had underestimated the strength of our friendship?

"Alva, what are you doing?" he demanded when I started back out of the shaded area.

It was incredibly stupid of me, but my stubbornness got the better of me. Yes, I wanted to make amends with him, but why was it that I could be so unbelievably stupid? Fortunately, common sense came back to me before I made myself more prone to sickness. Avoiding him was the only choice I had. Or probably the healthiest. When I reached him, I deliberately pretended he wasn't there.

"You can't keep doing that." His face was so smug and sure.

"How can you say that?" I snapped.

He threw me the mantle. "Because you just did so."

I caught it and covered myself with the mantle. I stared at him. He looked so handsome, which I now just realized. My heart desired to make up with him, but my pride would not let me.

He turned his back to me and looked at the gardens. "You shouldn't stand there. You might catch a cold."

He spoke with me so casually, as if nothing really happened between us a few days ago. He continued talking. "Now look at you. Your hair is dripping wet and your gown is clinging to your body." I looked down. My revelation caused me at once to become ashamed. My gown was sticking to me. I tightened the mantle around me.

"Thank you for the mantle. I appreciate it," I said to him. His back was still turned to me but I could see his head nod. "And—" I stopped…would he accept it? "I'm sorry. It's my entire fault." Good grief, it was harder than I thought. Oh, how I had wanted to say those words before but why was it that I couldn't? But now that I had finally said those words, now that I had breached the wall that separated us, a small ladder of hope had appeared to help me go over it: to him.

He now faced me. His smile was now warmer. It warmed my soul and made me feel I was not cold and wet. How could he have such an effect on me? "I shouldn't have said it to you, though," he answered.

"I should have taken it lightly," I argued.

"If I didn't say it then you wouldn't burst out."

I laughed. "Stop it! We just made up and now were quarrelling again." I grinned. Then I said in a more serious tone, "But, I am, indeed, truly very sorry that I treated you like that. I should have known you wouldn't be like that." There was still that warm tingling inside me, and I didn't feel the least bit cold.

"Let's not think about it now. What were you doing out in the rain?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "It calmed me down. And I didn't want to return."

"I should have known from the very first day we met that you hate balls.'

"I don't hate balls. I just don't enjoy being in one much."

He nodded. "It's good we're friends again. I miss your talking."

"What?" I was almost near laughing. Miss me? But I missed him, and that was certain. No one answered me with sense like him. They all thought I was mad thinking about things I shouldn't be thinking about. It was exasperating. And he was the only one who understood me. Which made me wonder, I already knew how large an impact he had given in my life, I already felt his undeniable importance in my days, but how was it that this happened?

Oh yes, it was the fear that he would no longer have me. Eric had everything, everyone. What did he need me, Alva, for? But then, he accepted my apology wholeheartedly, and even an apology of his own. I was wrong to have feared such shallow reasons.

"It's true." He was laughing. "No lady is like you, and that I appreciate."

"There are many ladies you could choose from. Just from observing you during the ball, I could already conclude that you have a wide array of potentials."

He grinned but there was an incredulous look on his face. "Are you jealous?"

"Of course not," I scoffed, suddenly defensive. "There are other people to be jealous about. I don't care whether you spent the whole day with Caroline or Edith or Amanda or whoever lady you can pick out from the crowd. I'm not the one missing something. You are the one missing me."

He nodded. "I guess I should agree with you." Then he added with a grin, "What about me? I admit that I missed your presence. Do you share the same sentiments?"

I didn't find any reason to tell him the truth, which was that I missed him terribly, no, desperately was more like. What else could be described of days pining for him, and him only? "No," I lied with a mischievous smile. "I had better things to do."

There was a slight change of expression on his face. At first I thought that he actually looked dejected, but it changed so fast that I was probably imagining things. He smirked. "Like what? Reading _again_? Can't you lighten up for one day?"

I sat down on one of the chairs that were near us. "I can," I replied slowly. "Reading books for me is lightening up. What do you mean by that?"

He sat down beside me. "Not reading a book for one day is a good start. Not analyzing every detail is another."

"I think I've lightened up before. I didn't get to read a book every time I have to talk to you." I smiled. "You always divert my attention."

"Honored to be a diversion," he answered with a bow. "What have you been _really_ doing?"

"Nothing. I know you've been around cavorting with other ladies. My stepsister was one of them. She kept on babbling about it for the last few days thanks to you."

He tried to look innocent. "Me? It's not my fault she kept on following me."

"You must have had a lot of fun with her," I sniffed.

He leaned back on his chair. "Right…" he answered sarcastically. "I don't mean to insult but she seemed bereft of a mind."

"Why do you say so?" I asked.

He sighed. "She could only talk about things I wouldn't care about. Like the weather." I smiled. I was thinking about the same thing awhile ago, while dancing with Raoul. "She's vacuous compared to you."

"She is?" I said. "I only hear her speak gossip around me. And half the time I don't listen. If she seemed so much of a bore, then why did you accompany her for the whole afternoon?"

I couldn't see his expression because he suddenly turned to me. "It shames me to say that my dear mother imposed this upon me, and that all my attempts to go against it are all futile."

"The Queen? She told you to be with Caroline?" My voice was near laughter.

He was facing me again. "Yes," he replied gravely. "She was hoping it would be a match."

I was laughing now. "A match?" I asked derisively. "Oh dear…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult your mother's judgment but I swear Caroline is not the woman you would want to spend your whole life with. Why did your mother do this? And why did you oblige?"

"My parents wish to have me wedded soon. And I couldn't deny their request." He wasn't looking at me any longer, but at the gardens.

I stopped laughing. Wedded soon? He would soon learn to not spend time with me. And what was the point of unrequited love? And if he were given choices, it would soon turn into an arranged marriage if he didn't choose one soon. I realized that anxiety was exhibited on my face. My normally talkative self was now speechless. I would lose him. It would not be all right to love him without him knowing but it would be worse to love him without him knowing and married. If he were, then all hope would be lost.

"That's the only reason why I was with many ladies. It's coincidental. It happened the day we had our fight. When I returned, I was in a bad mood but it became worse when I was told about it. No one else knows. Just you, me, and my family." His eyes conveyed something I couldn't understand, or maybe I chose not to understand. I stared at them, noticing—for the first time—that there was more green in his eyes than brown.

"Do you want it to happen?" I asked tactfully. I tore my stare away from those beguiling eyes and turned my attention to the hems of my gown.

He shook his head. "I don't want to be ordered about especially if it concerned something as important as this. But then, I had the feeling this would happen soon."

"You knew? You knew that matrimony would soon be imposed? Since when?"

"When I was young. Of course, I heard stories from other kingdoms, princes marrying princesses just to ensure the security and wealth of the kingdom. There had been many cases of political marriages in the past, especially when it comes to royalty. Unfortunately, this time wouldn't be the first."

When I heard those words, my hopes sank. Certainly, a princess would be worthy of him and Tryla. A well-noted and proper lady was good, but a well-noted princess of a successful kingdom would be more than good. But a gossip-ensuing and once-labeled recluse would not be a likely candidate. I wanted to tell him to not go through it, but what would I say? He would wonder why I would want him to stop marrying. And I knew that it was inevitable from the start. "Of course you knew," I told him. "It is your duty, they say, to serve Tryla with all your heart. This is one of them. Do you have the right to choose though?"

"Well, yes, but it doesn't matter. I would be nagged day in and day out about this matter. Once this matter would go public, everyone would start making lists of ladies most likely to be near me. And once I would be ready to choose, they would give me the criteria of choosing. If they are displeased with my decision, they would dissuade me, and such." He sighed. "And it would be worse if I have to spend every waking moment with a simpering lady."

"It wouldn't be all that bad. And I'm not a simpering lady yet you're spending a waking moment with me. Unless of course, I'm not an exception."

"Of course you are an exception. I wouldn't be next to you if you were." He grinned.

"But you were next to Amanda and all the other simpering ladies," I pointed out.

"Not out of free will," he retorted with a laugh, "and I would more than gladly have none of them if I could have you." He ran his hand through his hair with a sigh. It was obvious that he was becoming faintly exasperated by me. "Your presence is more comforting than a hundred of theirs combined."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. _Idiot!_ I scolded myself. _Don't _even _think that he is meaning something! _I looked down so then he wouldn't see my reddening face.

"Liar," I managed to choke out. "I'm not even considered a proper lady. I don't even have suitors!" I laughed mockingly at myself.

"You don't?" His voice was shocked for some reason. How he didn't predict such a reality befuddled me. Surely, he must know by now that many would prefer their wives to be of the orthodox category. "I thought you did. After all, you're beautiful and intelligent."

"Hardly and don't tell me that!" I snapped. "I'm not beautiful. Caroline is. Edith is. And intelligent? It's not even part of the criteria to be a lady. If I know, they all think I'm mad. Haven't you heard about those rumors about me before?"

He nodded. "Certainly. But that didn't stop me from knowing you."

"Well it did a lot. I haven't exactly been out to society for a long time now, and this period is the first since…who knows when."

Eric smiled at my pout. "I had heard excessive news about you, I must admit. You were mostly called the reclusive book-loving daughter of the lord and lady of Rista. And so many rumors had circulated about your existence. There was a point when some people thought you were a legend because no one could truly pinpoint a fact about you."

"See? They had forgotten me. I _had _attended functions when I was young. What makes you think they would remember me now?"

"Maybe because you were once branded a recluse then suddenly you came out," then he added with a wink, "all radiant and splendid." I rolled my eyes, but ignored that one phrase. "And they couldn't very well fathom how you, the recluse, could hide yourself from the specious society when you indeed have something to show to them."

By that time I was already getting tired of his subtle yet precise flattery. "If I could throttle you, Eric, I will do so," I told him with a glare. "There is nothing for even a mirror to see. Nothing at all!"

He submitted to my outburst. But he still managed to go against it. "You're much better than all three of them combined. I for certain know that. And you should know too. Do you decipher your vanity in accordance to the number of your suitors? What of the quality?"

"I don't decipher my vanity," I retorted. "I was taught that you can only call yourself beautiful if you do have suitors. Why else would you have suitors if you were a hag?"

He smiled but confusedly. "You're not stupid enough to believe that."

"I _am_ not stupid enough to believe that but it stuck. I was told when I was still about eleven by my own mother…" I wavered away.

"You believe her? That's ridiculous."

"It's not like it matters. Beauty equals vanity and being vain means I have to look at a mirror every ten seconds."

He stopped to think about it then he said with a smile, "Caroline." I nodded. "But if you add my two sisters then it would be properly substantiated."

Penelope and Rosena. Penelope was indeed beautiful. She looked like King Raymond with the dark blond hair and green eyes. She inherited her mother's wiry and long-limbed figure. She wasn't tall though, unlike Eric and King Raymond. Rosena was taller than Penelope, with auburn hair like Eric and green eyes. She wasn't as beautiful as Penelope but there was something about her that made you look at her.

"Are they vain?" I asked.

"I love my sisters, do not wrong me, but it would be a challenge to pry a mirror out of their hands. Their vanity could be amusing as well as exasperation. I have lived with them all my life and still I couldn't tolerate it. Fortunately, you haven't an ounce of narcissism in you. Unlike them, you don't carry a mirror and a brush everywhere."

"But all ladies do that. Caroline does, Edith does, even Lacrecia. I guess I'm the only one."

"I suppose so, but that doesn't surprise me one bit. You have this penchant to go to the..." He paused at my withering look. "…highly unlikely. And I assure you, it is a compliment."

I looked into the direction of the ball. Then I looked at myself. I was still slightly soaked. "It makes me wonder though. Why do you make friends with me when you can have any other lady who is much better than me? I'm not the only one who reads and learns, you know."

He chuckled in amusement. "You shouldn't wonder. It's not like it would make any difference."

"Well, I can't help it," I retorted. "Is it because I'm so unsightly that it compelled you to pity me and befriend me?"

He looked at me intently. I was suddenly conscious of his eyes. "You're not. And I didn't pity you. Actually, the first time we met I wanted to send you away."

"_You_ were the one who intruded." Indeed, I was the first one in that garden, staring up at the pallid face of Queen Regina.

"As I was saying," he said, ignoring me. "I wanted to send you away because I wanted to be alone."

"Well…you spoke to me."

"It wasn't like I had a choice!"

"Yes you did!" I held the mantle tighter around myself. "You could just stay there, look at the statues, and basically ignore me. It's not like I would be angry with your indifference. Also, you could send me away through a royal order."

"Wouldn't it be disconcerting that we were the only two people in that garden and we weren't even speaking with each other? And you know that I don't like ordering about. You wouldn't want that either. Nevertheless, you wouldn't follow it if I did so."

"No…I won't follow you. Instead I would have debated with you about human rights." I nodded. "You're right. So what made you talk to me longer?"

"The first reason why we even met. It's because you had something to say. Not just talk hollow phrases and sentences. You made me listen to you, and you listened to me. All my life, people just listen but not answer. You were different. You argued with me, actually." He shrugged his shoulders. "At least you were a refreshing start. You don't just sit back at the shadows swallowing everything even if you don't like it."

"It's not appetizing." I shook my leg. The cloth seemed dry…what about the rest of me?

Eric was mumbling something. I didn't catch it because I was busy trying to find out if my gown was all dry.

"What did you say?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Don't mind it."

I frowned slightly. Well, if he wanted it that way. "Actually, if we never met back at the river, I might not have spoken with you."

It was his turn to frown slightly, yet this time, in confusion. "Why?"

I observed his face first before answering. His eyes reflected curiosity. And something else…eagerness to hear? I felt him studying my face too.

"Well?" he asked slowly.

My attention was suddenly on the receding drops of rain. Would it hurt him if I told him?

"I was shy." I grinned at his incredulous face and knew he thought of it as a joke. "When I thought of it, I realized I was wrong. I would still have spoken with you even if we met again in a ball."

It was a lie.

The truth was I never really wanted to spend time with royalty. I didn't like stereotyping but I was, alas, a hypocrite. I had envisioned princes and princesses as those who thought they were the rulers of the will of their subordinates. I thought they all wanted the attention and the luxuries. I was wrong. Eric was not like that. We were the same. He thought ladies were all vain and narcissistic, and I thought all sovereigns were all tyrannical. But our friendship proved otherwise, the existence of our persons had proven the opposite.

I took off the mantle and placed it beside me. "I'm rather dry now. Thank you for the mantle. Where did you get it?"

"To be honest, I was about to give it to Lady Amanda, who was shrieking about her gown splattered by a few raindrops. I didn't want her causing unwanted commotion. But I saw you and I knew that you needed this more than her." He was observing me again. I decided to ignore it.

I folded the mantle. "Thank you. Lady Amanda is very lovely." I saw her in my mind. The petite and fragile body. The docile eyes. The blond hair that reached her waist.

"You've met her?"

"Unfortunately."

"She seems to be a fine sample of a lady," Eric commented with a smile.

I smirked. "Then I'm not?" He nodded gravely. I knew he would do that. I decided to ignore that and started with another subject. "When I was in finishing school, we were in the same room. She was the best dancer during Dance lessons. Her stitches were perfect and minuscule. Her manner was flawless. But her writing and composition was quite unspeakable, to say the least. She sat beside me during Writing and Composition. Don't you know she is a terrible speller?"

"Not that I know of. You do know that she didn't communicate to me through writing," he replied matter-of-fact.

I cringed at the memory of her spelling. _Ladys_ instead of _Ladies_. "Since I was her seatmate, I was subjected to tutoring her. She never improved. But it could also be my abysmal endeavors to actually teach her. But nonetheless, spelling is already inherent. But even the simplest words!"

There was a sudden revelation in Eric's face. "You're bad-mouthing her."

"I'm not. I just wanted you to know that she isn't the fine specimen of a female. She's lovely and she is the finishing school mistresses' favorite—except the Writing and Composition mistress. I don't want you married to someone as incompetent as her, when it is clear to me that you desire something more important than beauty and grace."

"What makes you worry about my welfare? You're not the one browsing through a catalog of noble ladies."

"You are so dense. I worry because I'm your friend. What sort of friend would I be if I would allow you to spend the rest of your life with a girl who doesn't know how to spell? A useless and insignificant friend, that is." I rolled my eyes. "Did your mother refer her to you too?"

"I would not worry about this matter if she didn't." He smirked. "Oh no, I would just choose one by my own will. You know better."

"What is with her and blonds? Caroline is a blond. Amanda is a blond. Next thing I know, you'll be dancing in that ball with Lady Nicole." Nicole was another lady with blond hair. I knew her because she was also once a finishing school acquaintance.

He was suddenly disturbed. "How did you know I was supposed to be with her?"

"You were?" I grinned. "I didn't know."

He shrugged his shoulders. "My mother introduced her to me awhile ago, before it rained. She implied that I should spend a lot of time with her. I don't understand my own mother sometimes. I could choose for myself. I told her this but she said she was just 'suggesting'. I find it impertinent and ridiculous. I'd rather choose you than have someone else choose for me."

"You won't choose me," I replied humbly. "Amanda and Nicole are both better than me in many ways. Not Caroline though."

"Not by my standards." He leaned to me, grinning charmingly.

"You flatterer." I eyed him squarely, daring him to try to do something more. "What are your standards? Strange and unusual?"

He thought but his eyes never left my face. "No, rather special and peculiar."

There was always a limit for patience, and now my patience had ran out for his flattery. I pushed him away. "You're vexing me," I told him bluntly. I knew he was playing around. He always was. I knew Eric. I knew that he always took things lightly with some exceptions.

"Why do you think I was?"

"Well you were…"

"But why?"

"I just know."

"You told me before that an important part of knowing was asking why. So I ask, why?" He was using one of my lines.

"Now you _are_ vexing me."

He stopped blasting me with impertinent questions. "Not really. Do you want to go in now?"

I nodded. My gown felt sufficiently dried. If not, at least I was not dripping wet.

"What time is it?" I asked. Lacrecia wanted to get home by twelve. She said that she needed her beauty sleep. The word _beauty_ made Caroline agree ultimately. It wasn't like there was a difference. Twelve was already a late time for beauty sleep. Sometimes Lacrecia and Caroline could be odd.

He glanced at one of the four clocks. "Quarter to twelve. Are you leaving soon?"

I nodded sadly. "We could always meet by the river if you want to."

"I wish I could. My mother wishes me to go somewhere where I could find someone suitable to marry or at least have interest in. I might spend my time in the Court. Or maybe my father wishes me to be beside him when he tries to govern Tryla."

"You've been doing that? With your father I mean?"

"Yes. Remember when we used to meet back in the riverside, and I always had to leave early? I do so because I must be present to help deal with particular matters. It's always been like that. I had to learn how to rule the kingdom, not just through books but through experience."

"So you really are busy."

He shrugged his shoulders, and then his eyes suddenly shone with a new idea. "I could tell my mother I am off to meet with Caroline of Rista. She is your stepsister after all. Instead of going to your manor, I could just meet you there."

I scowled. "But what if Caroline or Lacrecia finds out that you lied? And your mother? She could have my head. She _is _the queen."

"Then I shall request it to be a secret between my mother and me. To prevent further uncomfortable scrutiny of society." He grinned. I was still frowning. "You shouldn't be so uptight about it. It will be easy. Nothing would go wrong."

I sighed. "Well, it's your plan. And I will not be the one who will get in trouble for it."

"Then it's all set then. Don't frown. It makes me feel like I'm committing a felony. I'm only doing this for you, since you want so much to meet with me. Besides, I really need to speak with you. Only that considering your sodden state, I think I should pass."

It made me feel special that he was going through that for me, but it still wasn't that foolproof. I didn't frown anymore. "I didn't say you should lie. Just promise to keep away from the manor. I don't want Caroline seeing you and running to you with arms wide open."

"It happened actually," he grimaced, "when you were…" I nodded. I knew what moment he meant, there were just no words to explain it without invoking ugly wounds of fear and hatred. He continued. "Those two ladies dragged me inside, requesting…or more like forcing me to have a cup of tea with them. I was in their home, and I didn't have any other choice than comply. I wished to see you safe in your room but I believe they made it impossible.

"They kept trying to engage me in a conversation, but I was too worried about your condition. When you dismounted the horse, you seemed dazed and without wits. Barbara and the other stepsister…Elspeth?"

"No, Edith."

"Edith. Those two were genuinely worried. I swore I saw tears in Barbara's eyes. But Ladies Lacrecia and Caroline." His brow furrowed. "Are they always like that?"

"You mean uncaring, selfish, and apathetic? Yes, they are always like that. Lacrecia only cares for Caroline because she believes Caroline is _her _own hope to fame and fortune. Caroline only cares for Lacrecia only because she believes that Lacrecia is the path to _her_ own fame and fortune. They only care for selfish reasons," I answered coldly.

"I never really liked Caroline," he told me.

But Caroline said she spent the whole afternoon with him. And he confirmed it to me. How could one spend a long time with another if he or she didn't really like the companionship? "You spent the whole afternoon with her," I pointed out.

He didn't look like he wanted to tell me the reason. "You didn't seem to listen awhile ago. I just said that I was forced."

I leaned to him. "I wonder. I am about to leave because of my insufferable stepmother yet here I am, engaged once again in a decent conversation with you. How come we always drift away to talking with each other when in truth we should be parting our ways?"

"Maybe because the two of just plainly enjoy each other's company. Or maybe we just want to open our mouths."

We both laughed. "Yes, that's it! We just want to open our mouths. But really. Why do you think so?"

He didn't get to answer because when his mouth opened to speak, the four clocks simultaneously chimed midnight.

We both looked to the direction of the clocks, and I saw the disappointment that flickered in Eric's hazel eyes before he turned to look at me. He looked at me so intently, and I presumed that I returned that quite adequately. It was as if that those four clocks signaled that we should leave each other now, that there should no longer be additions to our conversation.

Oh, then and there, I wanted nothing more than to embrace and kiss him. Mind readers were rare, almost impossible, and thank goodness there was not one in the proximity, for my thoughts could have shocked one very much. But, yes, indeed, there was nothing more I desired to do than to tell him now, now, and now. I opened my mouth to speak, but only one word came out.

"Goodbye."


	11. X

During the ride back home, Caroline was glaring at me for a reason I knew all too well. She was _furious_ to see me enter the ball with Eric. What made me cautious was that she was quietly staring at me with her piercing eyes like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. It was not as if I had not suffered her gaze before; but her silence was the one that warned me. Whenever Caroline kept her feelings, they were bound to explode unpleasantly. And who would suffer such a temper? It would be much easier to handle a rambling Caroline than a teeming Caroline. I tried my best to ignore her, thinking that such action would mollify whatever trespasses she had thought I had done to her. But when we stepped inside the manor, Caroline was no longer a ready predator; she was ready for the kill.

"Why were you with him?" Caroline asked me in a low menacing voice. She was ready to pounce if I gave the wrong answer.

I shrugged my shoulders. "He only gave me a mantle because I was rained down."

"But he should just _give_ it to you. That will only last for a second! What did you do to make him stay longer?" she demanded.

"Nothing! I don't know what you are talking about! And why are you so bothered about it? You also ignored him to satisfy the craving attentions of all the other men in the ball."

Caroline was suddenly ugly with frustration. She didn't seem to hear my last sentence. "How fortuitous of you to have experience such instances with him!" she said sarcastically. Then she shrilled: "Now you will tell me all about it!"

"Nothing happened," I replied calmly yet firmly.

Edith spoke up. "I believe that Alva cannot be Prince Eric's interest."

"Yes?" Caroline asked in a lilting voice. Her blue eyes were huge and curious.

My stepsister was nonchalant. "I overheard Lady Arella say to her friends that his heart has already been taken."

"When?" Caroline snapped. She was livid with anger and jealousy/

Edith shrugged her shoulders. "Arella said that he had told his mother about a lady. No one knows who."

Caroline grabbed Edith's shoulders. "Well at least this half-mute has some use. What else?"

She shook her head. "She said that Prince Eric refused to say more."

My blond stepsister was shaken with fury. "I take back what I said! You _are_ useless. If this lady is simply too wonderful then he would have spoken more about her and the whole court would probably know by now!"

I realized that Lacrecia had not spoken. She was unusually quiet now. She was staring at Caroline then her eyes drifted at me. I saw sudden disdain flash in her face. I wasn't surprised or sad or whatever anyone should feel during that short moment. This frequently happened of course, especially when she was about to say something unkind to me. But then, it only happened when she would compare me with Caroline in one way or another.

"Be silent, Caroline," she snapped angrily. She was rubbing her temples furiously.

The three of us all looked at her with mixed emotions. I was happy that _at last _Lacrecia reprimanded Caroline for something. Edith was rather happy too; if you took her head cocking to one side a sign of happiness. On the other hand, Caroline was looking incredulously at her, with eyes wider than before. She was biting her lip slightly and I swore I saw tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

Lacrecia didn't care whether Caroline was about to burst into tears. "Your voice is so _earsplitting_. Don't you see I am _thinking_?" Her voice came out a hard and nasty hiss.

By this time, Caroline had already recovered from her shock. But she drew back before she spoke. "What were you thinking of, Mama?" she purred.

"I want you to spend a lot of time with his Highness," she ordered.

Caroline tried to get to Lacrecia's good graces. "But I _am_ trying, but Alva—"

"Well you can't let her win, now can you?" Lacrecia snapped again. Caroline drew back again. She stared at me with more hatred than I have ever seen in my whole life. With a grave thought, I realized that the two of them might have been speaking behind my back, plotting ways of trying to eliminate me for some reason I didn't understand. I never did do anything to Caroline unless she did something to me.

"No, I can't let her win," she replied. Her voice was now steady and her words were like arrows piercing me.

"_Win_? What games are we playing now?" I demanded. "Capturing royals as if it's some game? If so, then I am not one of the contenders."

Lacrecia turned her anger to me. "You will not speak a word while under the roof of my own home and walking on the ground of my land, the land that I made to prosper and grow into the land you see right now!"

I stared at her hardly. "Do you mean this land that _you _prospered with your _own_ hand?" I asked sarcastically. "_Your _hand? You might mean my father's hand that made this pathetic manor into the manor you are seeing today!"

She glowered at me. "He left me everything he owned Alva. Me, his wife. The only thing you own right now is the miserable dowry that your father wanted you to have."

I knew about the dowry. My family owned many lands, scattered everywhere in Tryla. One of those lands was mine. Most daughters were given at least three manors for their dowry. We were rich but I couldn't understand why my father was suddenly stingy when he wrote his will. I had never seen the document yet but I knew there was because my father knew that traveling was not often safe. He already wrote his will yet he changed it to suit the times. A legal representative dictated from his will yet refused to let Lacrecia, her daughters, and I see the document.

I couldn't say anything about the dowry.

Lacrecia triumphed in my silence. "Yes, your parsimonious dowry. Remember that _I _am the mistress of this manor and the mistress of all the lands that come with it. You are lucky that I have not banished you to the servants' wing."

I couldn't do anything except glare at her. I was helpless, trapped like a mosquito in a spider's web. I was the mosquito and she was the black widow. Oh, how befitting. Caroline was smirking at me, mirth dancing in her eyes. Edith was looking away, yet I could see a little defiance in her. No one else was in the hall except the four of us.

I turned my back to her and went to my room. I could accept my defeat but what made me enraged was that I _was_ lucky not to be banished from Rista by Lacrecia.

Caroline was struck with Edith's words last night, but I myself was more struck than her. I had spent all my afternoons with him yet he said nothing! But then of course, maybe he thought that I would make fun of him, which I would most likely do. Jealousy was in my mind. Who was this lady? She must surely be someone notable; after all, Eric was a prince. I was beside myself with my feelings for him. Well, it would be better if I heard it from him, not from gossipers.

Did he not trust me?

I was yet to recover from my argument with Lacrecia. During breakfast, the two evils were looking at me with malicious delight. Lacrecia and Caroline were both rejoicing at my helplessness. They also wouldn't let me out of their sight. They decided to visit the castle again, this time, with Edith. They demanded that I stay behind to "watch over" the manor. In fact, it was only their alibi. Lacrecia never needed me to stay in the manor to keep watch. Lacrecia and Caroline also insisted that I bid them my good lucks and goodbyes. I had to watch their carriage leave Rista. If I didn't, Lacrecia would probably lock me up in my room with some excuse.

My mind was buzzing with questions as I made my way to our meeting place. I looked up. The sky was dark and filled with clouds. I was wearing a cloak with a hood so I wouldn't get wet again. What was I thinking the night before? I was nearing our meeting place and I could see his figure waiting for me. As always, the insatiable Nodnal was already in one part of the river, eating grass. I scolded myself for tarrying and quickened my pace.

"How long did you wait?" I asked when I did reach him.

He turned to me. "Not long. Actually, I thought you waited and left because I was too late."

"What did you tell anybody?" I demanded. I shouldn't forget that he went out of his way just to come here.

He grinned. "I said that I was visiting Rista."

I was suddenly feeling sick. Caroline, Edith, and Lacrecia left today for the castle. "But…" I shook my head. "You shouldn't have! Caroline, Edith, and Lacrecia are now on their way to the castle. Why do you think I was not here earlier? They demanded that I stay there and bid my good lucks and goodbyes!"

Caroline left looking like a princess in her scarlet gown and gold and ruby jewelry. Lacrecia was dressed simpler so then spectators would only see Caroline and her resplendence. They only took Edith with them to make it seem they were actually close. They came to the castle to speak with the Queen or Prince Eric. But they couldn't speak with him right now because he was in front of me.

"What's the harm in that?" he asked.

"They came there to see _you_!" I replied. "You must come back to the castle immediately before they speak with the queen and find out that you were supposed to come to our manor. Then, the queen would find out that you were lying because how could they be there when you were suppose to stay with them—" I said it all in one breath and could have said more but Eric grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me.

"Stop being hysterical," he said sternly. "I just need to speak with you. Now. And when it's done, be assured that I will be back in the castle."

I calmed down. I couldn't help being hysterical, to be honest. I didn't want Eric to be in trouble because of me. But then, he _was _the one who really wanted to speak with me. "What do you want to say?"

He paused for a moment, thought etching in his features. "I don't know how to say this but…" He took his hands away from my shoulders and turned his back towards me. I was suddenly scared, for some reason. Maybe he didn't want to be friends anymore. Surely he wouldn't be so serious if what he was about to say was not a weighing matter. "When we fought, I realized that I couldn't lose you again. But telling you would make me lose you all the same…" He stopped.

I was confused. His words made no sense at all. "You won't lose me in anyway. Unless I die or you die or we just leave."

"But we almost did. Remember? And if it wasn't for the rain we wouldn't be here talking again."

I nodded. He was right. I did want to make up for him but I wasn't granted the opportunity. And I supposed that I also didn't want to apologize at first.

"I didn't want to risk you," he was saying but I couldn't really hear. I was focusing on his face, which was now facing me. "But I realized that you were worth it."

Not a word came out of his lips and settled into my mind. I was dazed all of a sudden with the sound of his voice. Our faces were suddenly near, just like before, but this time, my heart quickened and I was anxious. He whispered something but I couldn't really register it. I could feel myself answering him but I couldn't quite hear. I was only aware of the three words that I wanted to tell him, and wanted to hear from him. His lips met mine and we were kissing suddenly. It was all a shock, but it delighted me. I wanted to do this for so long. I had longed for this moment before, yet, why was there an unsettling feeling inside me?

I pulled back and stared at him. My cheeks were burning. "Are you daft?" I asked. The question was as stupid as the word. I loved him and he loved me too, but there was something wrong. We were never really meant for each other. He was the crown-prince and I was the booklover daughter of deceased parents. His name and reputation had been unscathed by society, whilst mine had been questioned countless of times. He was destined for the finest ladies of the realm and I was surely not one of them.

He was smiling from our kiss but he was now frowning by my question. "I'm not."

"You can't be serious," I told him. I wanted to grab a dagger and kill myself with it, yet at the same time I wanted to live and love and embrace him right now.

He touched my hair with gentleness and care. "You should hear yourself Alva…"

I had only known his love now and I was now trying to rid myself of the thing I desired most. "I do love you but it's all wrong. You should be there, in the castle, with ladies that are dainty and docile… I'm just Alva and you're…you're a prince!"

"It doesn't matter. Nothing matters!"

"But your parents…"

"They know about you and they gave me the liberty to choose." He was smiling now.

So I was the lady Edith was talking about. I laughed at the sheer irony of it. I was jealous with myself!

"What are you laughing about?" he asked.

"Edith told me last night about a lady that you favored. I was actually jealous of her…of myself!"

He was now solemn. He looked at me in the eyes. "I thought I would lose you. I thought you would get angry with me… I wanted to tell you before yet…"

I placed my finger on his lips. "Shh…I know. I wanted to do so too but with you surrounded by all these ladies, I didn't think I would have a chance for anything at all."

"How could you put yourself underneath them all?" he demanded. "You are either addle or too humble."

I looked at him sadly. "I didn't think I deserved you since I was not the lady everybody wished me to be. I am not meek and mild. I'm terrible at embroidery and I abhor doing domestic tasks. Whilst, there are a long line of other people who are good in everything I didn't do well. I'm a weed among flowers, Eric, you should know that."

"But you aren't. When in truth it's the opposite. You are filled with everything, beauty, grace, intelligence, yet you say nothing! Amongst all those who speak of nothing but gowns and gossip, you speak of problems and read of books that only scholars attempt to read! You are more than what you think you are, yet you do nothing…"

He thought so well of me! And now I just realized the meanings of his flattery and praise, now, only now when I should have known before! How could I have been so _dense_ and so _thickheaded_? He had been in front of me for too many times to count yet I had not at least entertained a slight notion? In fact, come to think of it, it was quite obvious! There had been so many times when he tried to tell me something, but never really did tell me. There had been times when he did say it, but I didn't hear… Had I tried not to see it because of my—dare I say it—_humility_? But there were more grave matters in our hands.

"Go, now that what you have wanted to say has been spoken!" I pushed him to Nodnal, who was more than ready to run. "You don't know how your mother would do if she found out you were lying!"

He turned around and faced me. "It wouldn't matter much. She knows why I'm here," he told me.

"But _they _don't know!"

I laughed. "Oh, leave, now! Before it's too late!" He mounted his horse quickly too.

He bent down from his steed and kissed me again. "The whole world will soon know, Alva of Rista, that you are the only one for me…" he whispered to my ear.

"And you're the only one for me too," I replied. Then I remembered Lacrecia. "And promise me that you do not believe any kind of slander Lacrecia will come up with. No matter what happens, please, _trust_ me."

I watched him ride quickly away. Now I knew what Mother felt whenever Father left for his travels. Mother was always heart-stricken whenever he left. She had always been frightened for his safety; she was afraid that he would come back to her in a box. She had said to me before, when I was still young, that I should never fall in love with a traveler, for his travels would make me sick with worry. But I wasn't in love with a traveler…no, of course not. Yet this time, I was only watching him go for awhile. He would never stay away for too long. He would come back and danger was not in his everyday path.

I closed my eyes and reran my memories. I grasped to each and every moment, afraid that if I release them, they would nothing more but evanescence. I was afraid that it was all a chimera. If this was a dream then I didn't want to wake up! But I should have thought better… I should have known that our realization of our love for each other was more harmful than anything that had happened to me. I didn't know that there was a possibility that he would not come back.


	12. XI

The clouds that were once only hovering in the sky, released their burden of water, and gave rain. It was rather strong, much stronger than the night before. In a short while there were puddles of water and mud. The leaves of the trees were showered and swaying with the wind. The dark sky was a captivator of all that was under it. Although the windows were closed, small gushes of cold air entered the manor. I was lucky to be back in the manor before it rained.

I was sitting in the window seat of my room when I spotted the carriage of my stepfamily nearing our manor. It was swiftly coming to the manor, and I could almost hear the wheels screaming mercy. Perhaps Lacrecia wanted to arrive quickly so then the wheels of the carriage wouldn't be stuck in the mud. When they arrived, I could hear orders and frantic footsteps.

But I was not bothered; I wouldn't care less. How could I explain it? It was like flying without care. I was not in this world but in my own mind, happy and content, euphoric and serene. I was slowly reliving my memories, one by one, each with painstaking detail.

"Alva!" Rosamund called from the doorway of my room. "Mistress Lacrecia wishes you to be downstairs, _immediately_." She fidgeted with her skirt. "I think you should go quickly, Alva. Mistress Lacrecia is quite red in the face, if I do say so myself."

Despite Rosamund's attempt to mollify the growing apprehension, I frowned slightly. What did she need me for? But then, Lacrecia was the only one who could ruin my happiness. I stood up and followed her. She motioned me to the solarium, and when I entered, I was immediately under the eyes of Lacrecia and Caroline. Edith was in one corner, worry creasing her features.

"What is it?" I asked.

My stepfamily was the picture of imprisoned emotions. Lacrecia was calm and yet the silence was foreboded her fury that was slowly eating her up inside. She was sitting in one of the armchairs, her hands clutching the armrests as if wanting to tear it off. Her lips were pressed into a thin straight lineCaroline was shaking with anger. She was standing next to the armchair. Her arms were crossed, but I could see that her hands were clutching on her arms tightly. She was silent, and I could feel her growing animosity for me. Her breathing was noisy, and each intake and outtake of breath was distinctly heard. She was biting her lip and her cheeks were flushed. Edith was almost nonexistent. She was seated in the farthest oak chair. I could see her apprehensive gaze. When she realized I was looking at her, she turned her gaze away and focused on the painting of the lady. The whole room seemed to be occupied by lifelessness.

"We came to the castle, am I right?" Lacrecia finally spoke.

I nodded. "Yes. To see their Highnesses."

My stepmother stood up. "I happened to have the opportunity to speak with Queen Emmaline. Actually, she insisted that we accompany her. Do you know why she said so?"

I knew what she was talking about… I shook my head. "How am I to know what she said? I was—"

"Shut up, Alva." Caroline covered the distance between us within three strides. "She said, 'I am so happy that my son finally found his match.' And I, of course, as elated thinking it was me. I said to the queen that I would be more than happy to be her daughter-in-law." She stopped talking and her face became twisted with anger.

Lacrecia continued for Caroline. "Her Ladyship fortunately thought it was a delightful joke, or else Caroline would be thoroughly shamed. She then laughed and said, 'How sweet of you! We will not be in-laws, but we would be relatively close, considering your sister would be my daughter-in-law.' She had the grace to clarify, and I quote, 'Alva of Rista would be my daughter-in-law.'"

If I wanted for them not to know, I should act as if even I didn't know. "I don't know what she is talking a—"

"And I didn't know too!" Caroline shrilled. "My heart was pierced with the spear of pain when her Majesty was kind enough to explain that her son apparently dotes on _you_. More than that. He claims to her that he _loves _you. Now tell me how this happened." Her voice was a hiss and her eyes were that of a snake's—slit and malevolent.

"I don't know what you are talking about," I managed to reply. "I've only met Prince Eric during the masques."

Caroline's anger rose. "And the first one you danced with him for a whole lot of times and the second one he _offered_ you a mantle just to dry you off! And did it ever occur to your petty mind that he actually rescued you from possible death?"

I sighed. "Eric just happened to be there when I was rained on and pursued for. What do you expect him to do? Watch me shiver and eventually develop an illness? Or maybe just sit back and watch the spectacle of a girl being chased? It was his _obligation _to rescue me, and personal feelings are not the only reasons to motivate a rescue," I snapped. "And I believe that he only danced with me because I was the only one with the feet he could step on!"

Lacrecia seemed amused with my answer. "Dear Alva, you have unwittingly given yourself away by calling Prince Eric with his first name, and no title."

I raised an eyebrow. "What does it matter anyway? All of you are acutely aware of the fact that I couldn't well remember all the protocol I would have to memorize."

"We know about your boorish manner and nebulous memory, already. And that is no excuse. Tell us now, Alva, whatever you need to say." I shook my head. "Well, then maybe you need more encouragement. We were informed that Prince Eric had come to Rista—here—today. And according to Cathy, one of our maids, you went out right after we left." She looked at me squarely. "Where did you go?"

"Out."

My impudence struck the last point in Lacrecia's patience. Her hand was suddenly raised and I was struck on my left cheek. I stared at her for a long time and I couldn't comprehend what just happened. It was inevitable, of course. I knew that Lacrecia disliked me but I never thought she would do something like that.

"You will tell me where you went if you want your face to look presentable," she said, voice dripping with pleasure and menace.

"Stop it, Mama!" Edith screamed from her corner. "She hasn't done anything wrong!"

Lacrecia turned her eyes to Edith, who was actually standing up for me. "Daughter, I will not tolerate your behavior towards your own mother."

"And I cannot tolerate your mistreatment to Alva, who is my stepsister and your stepdaughter," Edith said firmly.

My stepmother laughed incredulously. "What is so special about this wench that would make you speak and stand up for her? You have silenced yourself in your own world, surely you have observed much. You should know that this girl was never a daughter to me, even a stepdaughter." At the end of this sentence, Caroline's eyes swept up to me. She was smiling, probably triumphant on my shock that I was never a daughter. But I never did feel like Lacrecia's daughter. And if I didn't feel like I was her daughter, then Lacrecia didn't feel like she was my mother.

Lacrecia was not finished with Edith. "You are deaf, mute, and unfeeling to all your surroundings. I wouldn't be surprised if you died and I wouldn't have a clue. The only thing that made me tolerate you is that that Lord Rafael wanted you as a wife, but he still hasn't presented his suit." She turned away, ending with the words: "You are never a daughter to me, so be silent."

Edith stared at her in horror. Tears slowly went down from her eyes. The pain must be unbearable, to have your mother call you all those terrible words. She ran out of the room, sobbing. I almost wanted to run after her but Lacrecia turned to me so swiftly, that I was suddenly frozen. I was ashamed to admit this but, yes, I was afraid.

It had struck me that Lacrecia was insane at that precise moment. How could anyone feeling the extent of her rage appear so calm in the exterior? How could she betray her emotions with just a move of her hand? She wanted to beat me, and that was unacceptable. She was unloving to her own daughter. A manic gleam was present in her eyes as she glowered over me. _She was a sadist…she wanted me dead… _all these thoughts crossed my mind as I tried to find a way out of this trouble.

I couldn't find any other way, so I told her the truth. "I went to the river, where I usually go. You know about my going there, so why make such a fuss about it?"

I realized that there were small tears falling from my eyes. It was not because Lacrecia hurt me in more ways than one; it was because no one in the world had ever tried to do this to me before. The shock in my mind was as disconcerting as the pain in my cheek when her hand met it. Mother had never even tried to raise her hand against me despite my constant tests of her patience. This thought never crossed Father's mind—especially Father's mind.

Unfortunately, everybody else in the room seemed to think that I was crying because Lacrecia did more than hurt me in the cheek.

"What did you do there?" Lacrecia was nonplussed with coming tears. Caroline was jovial.

"I was reading," I replied slowly and angrily.

She walked closer to me, threateningly. "You are not telling the truth."

With that one step, I almost wanted to flee, to leave behind whatever courage or dignity I had ever pretended to hold. But how could I desert myself, and surrender to my fear rather than hold on to the fuse of anger and humiliation slowly growing in me. I have lost Mother, then Father. Then I was refused the right to be acknowledged as a daughter of a lord. I lived helpless under her unwavering gaze of pure loathing. I hid from her whenever I could. I even tried to hide Eric's love for me because of her. How could I walk away with the knowledge that I had willingly surrendered to her…Alva?

"Tell me." And she moved her hand, striking me on my face.

"What truth do you want? What is truth when you refuse to believe it?" I screamed at her, holding my stinging cheek to my palm. "You've taken everything that I have had. I have _nothing_ left to give you!"

"You have the truth, and that is _not _nothing." Lacrecia replied in a false honeyed voice.

I eyed her furiously. "Well there is no truth that you don't know!"

"Stop crying, wench or else you will wish you never had eyes," Lacrecia threatened.

What was I doing? If I loved him so much, why couldn't I show it? Why couldn't I at least defy Lacrecia for one more moment just for him? I shouldn't be so scared of her. I should be scared of our love. I realized what I was doing was wrong. I shouldn't keep all these emotions struggling underneath my skin to get out.

"You know what the truth is," I retorted. "What do you need me for to tell you?"

Caroline's jaw dropped. "No! It can't be! Mama, tell her that she is wrong!"

"Shut up, Caroline! You and I know all too well it is true so there is no use denying!" Lacrecia snapped. Caroline quieted down. She turned to me. "Tell me Alva."

I laughed. "Are you deaf or are you just stupid? You know, I know, Caroline knows, Edith knows, the Queen knows. What do you need me for!"

"I just need to hear it from your own mouth, girl. Now speak before my patience wavers again."

I stood much taller than I have ever felt before. I felt a surge of hate for Lacrecia and Caroline. I hated Caroline for treating me like a common maid, and I hated Lacrecia for her indifference, which was supposed to be a mother's love. "The truth? The truth is that I love him and he loves me too!"

I wasn't finish with them. "Lacrecia! Since you want to know more truth then I'll tell more! Caroline, you are fool who has no use in the world! You show to the world that you are the perfect being with your sparkling eyes and sweet disposition! But in truth you are but a worm wriggling under the scrutiny of everybody! Once you are at home, you are a hag with edicts and commands that are downright unreasonable! And when you are no longer the perfect lady, you are lost in yourself. You don't know who you are!"

Caroline was weeping, partly in rage that I have taken what she thought was granted to her. Lacrecia was still scowling at me. Her eyebrows were raised and her mouth was pressed into a thin hard line.

"Have you no shame? Acting as the person you are not for the sake of public approval!" I spat. "Grow up you chameleonic harlot and maybe you'll see that the whole of Tryla is in disgust with you existence! And you Lacrecia, putting up with her stupidity just so you can elevate your current state! The two of you are _lowest_ people I have ever encountered!"

My stepsister was wailing now. My words had struck her in immense measures. Lacrecia was red in the face. I realized that throughout my philippic, she had not spoken or interrupted. Although her silence was passive, her gaze was like a raptor's.

"Now that this drama is finished," Lacrecia called for Rosamund, "follow Rosamund to your new room."

I didn't move. "You don't mean—"

"Yes, I do mean," Lacrecia snapped.

"I have every right to stay in the position I am in," I replied.

"No, you don't. You see Alva, I am the mistress of this manor, and as mistress everybody lives under my hand. You've been a burden to me for a long time now, Alva. It's about time you repaid me."

"Burden?" I replied incredulously. "I have been in this manor longer than you are. I have lived here for sixteen years while you and your despicable daughter stayed here for only a year!"

"That doesn't change the fact that I am mistress," Lacrecia said hardly.

I could only stare at her. I must have been too angry to even react because the next thing I knew, I was in a servant's room. It was a small square room with only a bed, a cabinet, and a small vanity as furniture. There were shelves nailed to the wall and were ready to come off. There were even no windows. But I knew that even the servants of this manor didn't live in these poor conditions. I looked around and realized that this room was actually once a closet. It was small, with shelves, and no windows at all. Lacrecia prepared this especially for me.

I sat on the thin mattress that I would sleep on and thought of ways to get away from this misery. Running away was an option. My grandaunt from my father's side eloped with a forbidden lover. She got away with it and was never found.

I resolved to run away the next day. I knew I would have to stay in the manor first before actually leaving. Lacrecia knew how to expect things. Somehow, I should have to make her trust. She should be confident that I wouldn't run away. When she was already, I would do so.

When I opened the closet, it was almost empty. The only things inside were garments that looked more like rags than clothes. Lacrecia had taken away my rights and now she had taken away my clothes.

Tears started to fall from my eyes. This day started out as the most joyful day I could ever have, yet now it was a nightmare. I lied down on my bed and cried on. If I had some way to reach Eric, then I knew he would help me get out of this. He would be enraged, actually. He couldn't even get Lacrecia and Caroline's nonchalance to my plight out of his head. What more of this?

I haven't said to Eric how much I loved him, and I had to get out of this just so I could tell him.

But the next day, I realized that I couldn't run away, let alone tell anybody who could help me from my plight.

"You will be a scullery maid, nothing more, nothing less. You tend to the fire, help all the other maids, and do other chores for us. Be reminded that you are forbidden to go outside unless it is really drastic, like a house fire," Lacrecia said to me. "And I expect you to be in bed by nine. Don't even try to escape. I've made sure your door will be barred by that time."

It was still early in the morning. Caroline must still be sleeping while Edith must be embroidering in her room. Lacrecia wanted to speak with me personally.

I was wearing one of the rags in the closet. My fists were constantly clenching and unclenching. I was thinking that maybe I should just get a knife and stab Lacrecia in the heart. But of course I couldn't result to that murderous state.

"I see you wore your servant's garb. That's a first good sign of subordination." She paused. "What else?" she frowned. "I realized that your name is much too noble for one as low as you."

My eyes widened. "What do you mean?" I hissed.

"You shall not speak to me in that tone, Girl. Yes, that's much better than _Alva_."

"What makes you think that you can even address me in that way? My name is Alva not Girl. You could make me a maid, fine, but you can't take away what is already mine."

Lacrecia sneered. "The rules have changed in this game of life. I am not only your mistress in this manor, but the mistress in your being. I tell you everything you do, and if I tell you not to breathe, you will follow." Before I could protest, she said, "I told you not to speak to me as if I'm not your mistress. Because of your ill manners you will not have breakfast." I wanted to laugh. I already took my breakfast in the servants' wing. But I didn't say anything unless she withdrew my lunch also.

"And don't think of going to your dear beloved Barbara. I've dismissed her. She is far too old for the labors of this manor," Lacrecia told me with triumph.

I looked down, shaking with fury. She had left me bereft with nothing and no one. I didn't have food, money, gowns, or whatever luxury I once had. And now, I didn't even have a name. I knew I had the pity of the maids and Edith, but it would not liberate me since they were all afraid of Lacrecia.

I straightened up, not wanting Lacrecia to see me weak and wounded, which I was. "Yes, Madame Lacrecia," I said in a monotonous voice.

She smiled gleefully. "And also, I will take care of their Majesties. They will not notice your disappearance. Nor will anybody."

I once thought that Lacrecia would never give me this kind of courtesy because she was afraid for her reputation. But now, I saw that she would go out of her way to get make me suffer. Oh no, getting rid of me was not enough for her. She wanted to see me wiggle like a worm on a hook. She wanted to imprison me in my own home, and see to it that every minute of it would be filled with misery.

I didn't know what Lacrecia had in her sinister mind. I didn't know what torments she would subject me to.

She sent me away to the kitchen to clean the fireplaces with lye. I was not against cleaning because I was not ignorant to chores. It was the lye that remained in my mind. Lye was a corrosive substance used to make soap. But when it was used for soap, it was first neutralized with other ingredients to prevent skin irritation. Lacrecia wanted me to use lye as a raw substance.

When I soaked my hands on the lye, I immediately felt the stinging pain. I bit back my tears and started scrubbing the fireplace. It was the dirtiest thing I have ever seen. And though I scrubbed as hard as I could ever have, there was still that amount of dirt not willing to go away. In a matter of time, my hands were red, burning, bruised, and even bleeding a little in some places. I stopped scrubbing after awhile because my attempts were futile. The fireplace was considerably cleaner than before yet there were ashes and dust that refused to be cleaned up.

I looked at my hands. They were dry and numb from the pain. My hands were screaming pain with the red welts and blisters. I knew this was only the beginning.

After the fireplace ordeal, I went to the scullery. My stepfamily had already finished eating breakfast and without a doubt I knew there would be dishes to wash.

Rosamund was in the scullery. She was chopping some vegetables for lunch, I supposed. We were friends, yet not so close. I treated all the maids properly and fairly. Actually, I issued few orders from them. Unlike Lacrecia and Caroline, I was not a tyrant. I earned the respect of the maids because of this. They respected me because I preferred to do things that I could do on my on. I never demanded any help for something as simple as fetching paper from the study.

I saw the dishes piled near the sink. I proceeded to it and started rinsing it. I noticed Rosamund stare at me.

"Why do you keep doing this? Why don't you run away?" she demanded.

"I can't," I replied. "If I can, then I will. But I can't."

She was started to vigorously chop the vegetables. "Well, it's not right; the way Mistress Lacrecia treats you!" Her eyes flashed anger. "I thought that she treated me wrong, along with the other servants. But she treats you worse."

I eyed her. Her clothes were more decent than mine. Her hands were not bruised and wounded. "It's not like I could do anything about it. She would treat me worse if I rebel."

"But what made her do this? When Lord Martin died, she could easily do this." She didn't know the circumstance. How could I tell her?

_She treats me this way because I love the prince and he loves me too. _"I don't know," I replied.

Rosamund huffed. "Well, I have a feeling that she's just jealous of you. You are a mile prettier than that Caroline, Lady Alva, and she's just scared you will know."

"It's not about vanity, Rosamund."

"It is. She knows you could easily outshine Caroline, but you just don't. Why? If I were as lovely as you, I would flaunt it. If I were as smart as you are then I would flaunt it too. You are even a fine dancer. And if I were, then I would dance all day. But you don't!"

"Are you exasperated by me?" I sighed. "I didn't think it was essential to do so."

Rosamund dropped the knife. "You can't expect me and Cathy to watch you be like this, Lady Alva. We know that you have every right to be the mistress of this manor just as Lacrecia has."

But she was wrong. Lacrecia was the legal wife of my father for a year. She had every right, more rights than me. If I could just find proof that I should own part of my father's lands, then I would get out of here. Yet there was no proof, only assumption.


	13. XII

I really wasn't thinking about my own state for the next days. I was busy thinking about the lies Lacrecia said to Eric to cover up her deeds. She could say I was actually betrothed to another. But I knew he wouldn't believe it. He knew that I was too free-spirited to even have the idea of an arranged marriage. She could say I just didn't want to go out, and I doubted the failure in this tactic. Had I not been branded a recluse before? And now would be no different.

Most of the time, I was lamenting on my loss. For one moment, I had everything. I had my life, my love, and even my name. And then in a flash, it was all gone. I could only hope and pray that Eric would still have faith in me. I could only wish that he didn't believe any of the lies of Lacrecia. I even went as far as hoping that he himself would come here to find me.

For the whole three days of my forced slavery, I thought of only him. If anybody would be disturbed about this, it would be him. What if he would be angry with me because of Lacrecia's falsity? What if he would shun me away?

But mostly, I imagined myself out of this nightmare and back into his arms. The thought of him was the only thing that did encourage me to go on.

Lacrecia had not yet come to the Court. But she did on the third day. When she came home, she was smiling jubilantly. She told me all about it just to see my torment. I was alone with her in the solarium.

"I wish you were there," she said in a wistful voice. "When Queen Emmaline asked where you were I said in a teary voice, 'Your Ladyship! She ran away!' She was certainly surprised. She couldn't believe her ears. Prince Eric was not there, unfortunately. I would love to see his face when I told you that you eloped with a Misethan."

She must have been so disappointed by my reaction. I only stared back at her, eyes uninterested. "Couldn't you devise a more believable explanation? He wouldn't believe a word of it," I replied calmly. I must be a great actress to have acted to calmly when in truth my heart could jump out of my chest because of anxiety. I trusted him with my life, but there was always doubt in my mind. What also made me frightened was that my name was already ruined in front of his family. If they wholeheartedly believed this, then I had no hope of getting Eric back.

Lacrecia was nonplussed. "Girl, don't even think of running to him for salvation. Nothing will happen; I assure you that nothing will happen."

"How can you say that?" I demanded defiantly. 

"If you go to him, I promise you that I will finish your pathetic life and his too." Her face was grave yet sure.

I met her gaze without fear. Or rather disbelievingly. "You can't do that. He is the prince and you are his subject."

Lacrecia only smiled. "I have done many other things in life, Girl. If you want, you can ask your father how he got killed."

But…Father was killed because of bandits. They were always present in the forests. Bandits were also the constant fear of travelers. They were feared more than bears or wolves because they could outwit and overpower you. They were merciless killers who only wished for the wealth their victims carried with their load. They were rebels, and could only be made to do something for a certain amount of money…

My stepmother laughed when she saw my comprehension. I was now shaking with anger and my face felt hot. I was standing in front of the witch who killed my father… I had been living a year of my life with this woman…

"Yes, Girl, your father was killed by bandits. But those bandits were doing it for me. So, I killed your father." She said it so flippantly and it stabbed me in the heart.

"You're lying…" I tried to say. But deep inside, I knew that it was the ugly truth she was revealing to me. I clenched and unclenched my fists, trying to calm down. But I wanted nothing more than to run to Lacrecia, and have her scrawny neck in my hands. I wanted so much to kill her…but no. I didn't want to be like her, bloodthirsty and merciless. I wouldn't go down to her level…

_But she killed your father! _A part in my mind argued.

My self-control handled everything but when Lacrecia spoke again, I practically lost all my scruples. "I am not lying, Girl. Your bastard of a father was killed by me. Do you think I would lie to you about that?" Her voice was honeyed, yet it was sour. "I never loved your father, you harlot. He was only a pawn in my chess set. I needed him for his money and he needed me for his bed. Unfortunately, my needs overcame his and now he is dead." At the word _dead_, my insides went cold. I bit my lip to prevent tears from falling. "You are such a fool, Girl, to dare defy me. I assure you, I am much more powerful than what I seem to be," she whispered in a deadly tone.

 I just had to do some harm to Lacrecia. Anything. No matter how trivial or stupid. I didn't care. I just had to hurt her.

And I did. I took the nearest thing to me, which was a crystal vase she bought a few days ago. I remember her coo to it as if it was a child. I saw her adoring face. But right now, I only saw her twisted face of horror, as she watched me take the vase in my hands and throw it at her direction. She screamed as the vase hit her on the side. The crystal broke and its pieces flew all over the room and landed on the floor. Lacrecia stared at me with disbelief and then her eyes went to the broken crystal.

"You are wrong to do that, Girl…" she glowered. Her arm had small wounds on it. The crystal vase must have caused it. I smiled when I saw it. She should feel the pain I was feeling when my hands went with the lye.

But despite the triumph that I was feeling, despite the fact that I had finally made her feel half of my pain, tears were falling freely from my eyes. I was crying for my slain father. I was crying for Eric whose life was now in danger because of me. She had not only taken my rights and name; she also took away my father. But I had never felt so strong and assertive. I looked at her squarely. "Wrong? Don't you _dare_ lecture me about right or wrong because I for one know what is wrong: you are!"

"Stop crying!" she hissed angrily. "I will not have your tears stain the carpet of the solarium."

"What do you care about the stains on the carpet? _I_ would be the one to clean it anyway so don't bother!" I screamed at her.

Lacrecia stared at me, mouth open. Then she snapped it shut and advanced to me. I was suddenly frightened of her. Her eyes shone the fury of an animal, a prey, a raptor. I felt like in no time she would be able to gut me alive. But I swallowed all my fear and stood my ground.

"Get back to you room," she commanded.

"You might mean my closet," I retorted with a growl. Tears were still falling down from my eyes. It must be a wonder to feel strongly for two emotions: sadness and anger. I wanted nothing more than to have Lacrecia pay right now, but I also wanted to fall down with all the weight on my shoulders. I wanted to cry for my father. But I couldn't. I wanted Lacrecia to pay, but I knew this was not the proper time.

"Get back to your room," Lacrecia repeated in a deadlier tone.

I decided that I should stop our little game of command and defiance. I was getting nothing from it, and the sight of her wanted me to kill her even more. But I didn't want to be like her atrocious self. I eyed her squarely. "I'll follow you this time Lacrecia, but trust me; you won't get this all the time." 

I turned on my heel and left Lacrecia there, mouth gaping open. She let me go, without any kind of damage. I thought she would slap me on the face but she didn't. Instead, she watched my back go to my own little closet. When I did get there, I locked the door deliberately. I lied down again on my threadbare mattress, tears no longer falling. I realized that my tears were all worthless; crying would not get me anywhere. I couldn't get out of this manor. I wouldn't dare. I didn't want to test Lacrecia's powers. If she could murder my father, then nothing would stop her form doing what she wished. I would not bring this upon the most important person in my life.

Rumors were flying. They were all about Caroline. They say that she was the closest lady to the prince, and that they were spending a lot of time together. Caroline was expected to be married to him if this continued. But there was little truth to these rumors. Caroline was indeed spending time with the prince only because she insisted on it. She used my downfall as an excuse. She came to the castle every day and comforted Eric. Queen Emmaline, of course, welcomed her with open arms and wished her the best.

Yet I knew Eric would have none of her. Caroline would come home, furious and exasperated by her futile attempts to snare his affections. She would kick everything in sight, throwing tantrums, and becoming the epitome of monstrosity with her twisted face and disheveled hair.

She often poured all her anger on me. It had only been five days yet I felt like it had been years. Two days ago she pursued me in the scullery and screamed at me.

"I am sick and tired of you, Alva!" she yelled at me. Lacrecia was the only one who took away my name. Apparently, Caroline didn't think it was pertinent to not call me by my name. She still called me by my name but every time she did, her voice dripped with disgust and abhorrence.

"I stacked your clothes nicely, rearranged your perfume bottles, and left not a single wrinkle in your luxurious and exorbitant scarlet bed," I replied scornfully. "Do you want me to get out of your way and not have anybody to do this for you?"

Caroline ignored me. "I _try_ to get him to forget _you_. I tell him that I am still here, and that you are nothing. But he doesn't seem to hear me. He pushes me away and only with the grace of courtesy am I able to come back to his side again. He couldn't even look at me, Alva! He gives excuses why I would have to leave early. He needs to study. He needs to hunt. He needs to train. He has to have time alone!! Do you know what this means?"

Her words affirmed it all: Eric was still thinking of me. I still had a chance with him, and he didn't give me up. He didn't believe in Lacrecia's falsehood, and he still felt appalled with Caroline. My soul was jumping for joy, but I couldn't let Caroline see this. I stared at her blankly. "I didn't think you were that daft to even ask me the answer."

My stepsister glared at me. "_You_ are like a leech sticking to him, and he is unable to get you out. You affected him to much, now he can no longer think about me. He only thinks about you!"

"If I am a leech then what are you? The queen of leeches?" I retorted. I returned to my duties, which was washing the dishes. I decided to ignore her just to make her shut up. But she was still behind me, barking in my ear.

She kept on cursing me for the lasting effect I had on him. Soon, she got tired of badgering me. Or maybe, she just ran out of insulting words to throw at me. She left me to wash the dishes, mumbling on the way out of the scullery. When I was alone, I sighed and hoped of an escape. I saw myself running to him, and then telling him all the wrongs that they had subjected me to. It was also against the law also to mistreat a relative, blood or no.

All my hopes were childish anyway. I imagined myself getting out of this prison and back to his arms. But Lacrecia's threat hung in the air between Eric and I. Lacrecia could be foolish sometimes but, I dared not to try her strength. She killed my father, and I would not have her do the same to my love.

When I didn't think about Eric, I thought about Father. I wondered if he knew it was Lacrecia all along. I mourned for him. Death by natural causes like sickness was not as horrible as death by murder. But then, my heart was always filled with worry and dread every time Father traveled. Danger was always on the road, and I supposed Lacrecia was the danger in the road of his life. I even thought why he married Lacrecia. She said that she needed him for his money, and he needed her for his bed. Was it all lust then? Was Father also an idiot for doing so?

Most of the time, I felt appalled by the presence of Lacrecia. The mere trace of her made me feel repulsed and furious. I couldn't believe that I lived in the same roof with the one who killed my dear father.

It sickened me to think that I was a maid to that witch but in truth there was nothing I could do. I once tried just to get out of the door and Lacrecia caught me. She didn't give me food for two days.

Edith and the other maids all hated Lacrecia for doing this to me. They hated Caroline also because her behavior became worse. Always, they would give me food if Lacrecia deprived me of it. But they couldn't really help me escape my troubles. Lacrecia kept a close watch on them, suspecting some conspiracy on their part. Edith was stronger than I have thought. Withstanding seventeen years of her life with those two was enough to warrant her strength against abuse and mistreatment.

Rosamund and Cathy were very helpful. They would be there to make me laugh after Lacrecia would especially come down to the scullery just to tirade me. Once, Rosamund deliberately added a dead fly on the water pitcher for Lacrecia and Caroline. My stepsister managed to be the one to be the unfortunate one. She choked on her water, and ever since then, she would look at it closely at the water in her glass. They didn't suspect any of us; they just thought it was coincidental. Cathy was more subtle than Rosamund. Whenever there was a mountain of dishes I would have to wash, she would be beside me. She helped in accomplishing the almost impossible tasks Lacrecia gave me. I would probably be more miserable if it weren't for them. Once or twice they tried to get me out of the manor, but their fear of Lacrecia prevented them.

I would never accept my destiny yet if I pretended to accept it in front of Lacrecia, she would treat me lightly.


	14. XIII

Suffering and torment was the name of Lacrecia and Caroline's game. It had already been a week and half, and I surprised myself by only realizing now that I could no longer take the affliction given to me. No matter how hard I tried to please Lacrecia and Caroline, their hate and courtesy towards me remained untouched. They still hated me. I knew I had to run away. I knew I had to live. But I wasn't given the opportunity until that eventful day I had to choose between two things.

Caroline returned home _not_ fuming from the castle. She was actually euphoric. She seemed to be among the clouds with heavenly bliss. She kept on smiling on everyone, shockingly including me.

In the solarium, while I was changing the water in the vases, I swore I heard her sing to herself as she strolled along the hallway.

When we passed by each other a while later, she looked at me from head to toe, a smile playing on her lips as she took in the rags that I wore and the bucket full of water I was carrying. Then, without a single tinge of dripping malice but with actual sincerity, almost a pitying tone, she said, "You aren't as beautiful as you think you are."

It was hardly a compliment, but it was still unexpected considering that she was oblivious to my existence ever since the last time we spoke. And the last words I heard from her were curses.

What was the matter with her?

"I think someone granted her the soul she badly needs. Goodness, she is more beautiful if she weren't scowling all the time. Maybe someone told her that," Rosamund said when I told her what happened.

Cathy laughed. "I don't think she is capable of having a soul. She is very young and too much like Madame. Her body is too spoiled to house a soul. I think she has finally been given a new home—away from Rista. Which I say is a good thing, so we must all smile as well."

"Hmm…a manor of smile. Interesting," I added with a smile.

All the servants wondered what the matter was until Lacrecia called us all on an assembly later that day.

She looked positively elated. Yet she scowled when she saw me.

"Tomorrow we shall have a _very_ important guest," she began. She gestured at our surroundings. "This place is filthy. By tomorrow morning I want it sparkling and more than presentable."

All of us resisted to urge to look at each other. _Filthy?_Lacrecia demanded that the house be cleaned thoroughly every single day, no matter how much the upkeep cost the manor. And now it was all for naught because apparently, the house was filthy.

She turned to me. "I want you to wash all the porcelain dishes from Yintiao." I looked at her blankly. Was she serious? "I don't care whether the dishes are already stale in the cupboards. I don't care whether they are twenty all in all. I want you to wash it. And I better see my reflection on those dishes by tomorrow."

I suppressed the urge to laugh. She thought it was torture for me! But washing dishes was simple, and it didn't matter if there were twenty or so dishes. At least, I was away from her in the kitchen.

"I doubt she would see herself anyway," Cathy whispered to me. "After all, her face is as white and pasty as the ancient porcelain itself." I stifled a laugh.

She ordered the curtains changed, the furniture dusted, the candles in the candlesticks renewed, the floors to be shiny, the chairs to be comfortable, and everything else had to look like it was brand new.

I was beginning to feel vexed with this guest. If this person demanded such greatness from Lacrecia then that person was certainly important.

Lacrecia stopped me before I could go to wash all the dishes.

"Tomorrow, I want you to stay in your room for the rest of the day."

I didn't say anything. Why wasn't I surprised?

My docility pleased her. "Good Girl." When she said those two words, I tried not to feel like a pet. But indeed, I felt like one. I felt like a dog that was trained for tricks. I was now being trained to be someone I was not. "Girl, I am very glad that you are now acting more…in your place."

She made me feel worse by patting my head. She grinned spitefully and left me.

I clenched my fists when she left. My clenching was so hard that my nails were gnawing at my flesh. Lacrecia's disposition gave me the habit of clenching my fists to calm me down. Pretty soon, it might not work and I would have to use it to punch Lacrecia.

Which would lead to inevitable death.

The rest of the day was devoted to washing dishes so ancient that—unbelievably—some sort of grime had clung to it. Despite my hatred for Lacrecia, it was a good thing she had ordered me to clean the neglected dishes. Had they been ignored any further, it would have been ruined completely. She didn't realize it, but Lacrecia actually saved the dishes with her nonsense orders. Once I was able to laboriously scrub out the grime of one plate, I admired it for a time, for Yintiao porcelain was truly priceless. Every piece was painted by hand, and every piece was unique. It was also priceless to me. Father was a collector of souvenirs from other places. This was only one of the mementoes he had acquired through his travels.

After about three hours, my hands were already pruned and wrinkled by washing. But the dishes were already finished, leaving me with nothing else to do. I didn't want to go to Lacrecia for new orders; let her believe I was tortured by the dishwashing. Which, come to think of it, was not exactly a feat of despair. Well, Lacrecia probably thought it was, considering dishwashing was a mystery to her.

I admired the plates one by one, marveling at the story each plate offered. In my mind, there were a million stories, spun by these plates. And I wondered why my story was not as beautiful.

"All this work for one person!" I heard Cathy grumble as she entered the room. She was carrying a basketful of cloth for furniture. "Goodness! Madame Lacrecia expects these to be washed and _dried _by tomorrow morning! Now where in the world will I get some sunlight at this time of the day?"

I took the basket from Cathy, who was about to throw it to the floor in exasperation. Inside, there was a heap of lace doilies, tablecloths, and runners. It very beautiful to look at, and I knew because I had looked at these lace creations adorning many of the rooms in the house. As were the Yintao plates, it was Father who took the lace home; this time it was in Melia, in Rista. The lace was white in color, and pristine, despite its use.

"Why should Lacrecia have it cleaned? It's perfect!" I told Cathy.

Cathy shook her head. "That was what I said to Madame, but she said she could see tiny little specks of dirt if she looks closely."

"My, what an eyesight she as," I replied.

"I'll just pretend I cleaned it," she said nonchalantly.

"You can never do that!" I answered. "What if Lacrecia finds out?"

"Yes I can. Madame will not look at it twice. I'd even wager that she made me wash the lace just to have the appearance of the household upside down for this guest of hers. It suits the occasion!"

"That is possible, but are you certain?"

"I could add a little perfumed scent on it, to make it seem as if I used the gentlest of soaps to rinse out the 'stains' that she sees."

"You're even more devious than I thought," I answered.

She took the basket from me. "More than you can ever think! That is the only way one can survive under the hand of _Madame_ Lacrecia!" Suddenly, the word _Madame _took a different meaning with the obvious loathe in Cathy's voice. "With all the work she is ordering about every single day, one must have the wits to twist the truth to make it seem as if all is indeed accomplished."

She saw my startled expression. "Like what?" I asked.

Cathy paused. "Hmmm. When she asked me to change all the flowers on all the vases—and you know that is plenty!—a _day _after I had picked new ones, I went out for a stroll, and enjoyed my little bit of freedom. When I returned, I informed her that the flowers were already in the vases. And she did not think otherwise."

"She _does _make orders for the sake of ordering," I mused.

"But don't get me wrong! I make sure the basics are done…everything is clean around here, isn't it? And I don't spit on your food if that's what you think!" Cathy smiled wickedly.

I laughed. "That is disgusting!"

"_Some _maids do it."

"Then what do you do?"

"An extra portion of pepper on Madame's pillow every now and then," she said proudly. "She doesn't notice the pepper, but I could hear her sneeze during the night when I pass by her door."

"How cunning," I answered. "I don't suppose you do this to all?"

Cathy shook her head. "Caroline, when she gets to be the little Madame—which is all the time. Never Edith—she doesn't even speak to us. And of course, the idea never crossed that I should to it to you!" She sighed. "A lot of us who aren't nobility wish that those high above us would understand what it would be like to be us. If they knew, then perhaps they would not be so cruel in their treatment. But as much as we want nobility to understand what we feel, what happened to you is not right. You do not deserve to be here…unlike Madame!"

"Let's not go into that," I said. "Much has been contemplated upon it—and I fear there is little I can do."

"Humph! We'll see about that!" Then without much ado, she left the kitchen, and went to another room, perhaps to initiate her devious plans on the lace.

_We'll see about that_…perhaps, all was not lost, if Cathy would see it. And it was inspiring of her, considering that she never thought herself to be completely trapped. She had hope.

Then maybe…so should I.

For a time, I had sat down by the cinders once more and thought of an escape. When a plan was growing clearer and clearer in my mind, and hope was bubbling happily in me, Lacrecia came and ordered me to sleep—a bitter reminder that I was not yet free, and that much more was to be done to achieve it.

I lied down on my bed and stared at the ceiling, although it was too dark to even see anything. I closed my eyes and opened them again. Nothing changed with what I saw. There was only darkness.

I fancied thinking that it would always be like this for the rest of my life. But there was a small light in the darkness enveloping me right now. There was a chance that Lacrecia would be too distracted to notice me…perhaps she would not know that I was in the room to begin with. I could pretend…yes, of course. What kind of rebellious and defiant servant I would be if I didn't betray her trust? If she was aware that she was risking my slavery, then she had it coming. I supposed that my acting was persuaded her that I was completely under her control.

She would probably be too preoccupied with her daughter and her important guest to notice a servant girl slipping away from her room.

Predictions could come true. Assumptions could come true. Guesses could come true. Unfortunately, destiny worked against me. It wasn't easy.

* * *

I wore the most decent rags I had. By far, the most decent was the one that covered my legs properly, had patches for sleeves, and had a hole at the collar. Fashion was not included in the criteria for running away. If I had to get out of this manor naked, then I would do so.

I already had an exact destination in mind. I planned to go to my grandparents on my mother's side. I didn't know if they would accept me but it was worth the risk. Father's relatives lived far away from Rista. Mother's parents lived in a suitably near distance if I took a shortcut in the forest—and no one knew the forest better than me.

There was a careful plan in my head. I had placed a small piece of wood in my room, pilfered from the ashes of the fireplace. It was enough to hold the door slightly ajar, while giving the illusion of it being locked. Knowing Lacrecia, she would not spend too much time on locking me up. If indeed, this guest was important, she would push me inside, slam the door, and fumble with the key.

All I had to do was wait.

I was not made to go out as soon as possible. During the morning, I was asked to remain in the manor. Lacrecia wanted me to wash the breakfast dishes. By the afternoon, Lacrecia and Caroline were on pins and needles. They just looked out the window and waited, and waited. Caroline scowled at my direction and whined to her mother. Lacrecia dragged me out of the room (I was attending to them at that time). She then took me to the servant's hall and pushed me into my room.

She was about to close the door when she stopped. She was looking curiously at the toe of her slipper. I felt my face begin to pale.

"What is this?" She played with the piece of wood with her toe. "A little door stopper? For escape?" She smiled. "Oh you poor dear girl. The ashes must have addled your senses. I am not as foolish as you think." She kicked it away, my only hope, and locked the door.

I wanted to scream.

"We shall wait in the main hall until he himself comes up to the door to say his greetings," I heard her say excitedly before I was actually out of the door.

But there were no more words to hear. And…nothing else for me to do.

Was I trapped in this place for the rest of my life? I had acted with haste, and without care—and my freedom paid the price. Perhaps, if I had been more perceptive, more cunning, then maybe, I would be out of this manor today, and my freedom would be secured. But my desperation had taken its control over me, and the result was further imprisonment. How could I have been so _stupid_ to rely on the presumption that for once Lacrecia would not be scrupulous in her observations?

I had succumbed to hopelessness. I would be trapped here until the end of my days… unless Lacrecia exiles me to a far of kingdom, where no one would hear of Alva. Not that anyone would care anyway, for who would remember the bluestocking, recluse daughter who disappeared from the face of Tryla…only to be held captive in her own manor?

I sat down on my bed and wondered about my future. But I had come to the realization that I had none. I would always be a danger to my stepfamily in many ways. If Caroline were to get what she wanted, which was to be queen, then I would step in, and I was certain that some doubts would be casted upon her treatment upon me. Lacrecia would never release me because I knew of the blood on her hands, the murder of my father. And they would ruin their futures if I were to be set free, or if I were to escape—for who would forgive a stepmother who knowingly imprisoned her stepdaughter?

It was unheard of amongst the nobility, to treat a fellow noble with such gross disregard for the blood that flowed in her veins. But then, I was reduced a maid in my own home. Whatever noble blood that protected me must have been purged already by the ashes.

I closed my eyes and lied down my bed.

There was no use speculating about a future that was dim. So instead, my wonderings turned to a future that was bright…

If I were to escape, the first thing I would do would be to return to Eric, and tell him that I loved him, with all my heart. But then, that wasn't possible as well…as Lacrecia had vowed to endanger him if I were to come close.

But what power did she have? Eric was the prince! Surely, Lacrecia's influence did not extend to the royal family…

Yet I knew. I knew in my heart, even if she were to come with no proof, that she was capable of doing so. And even though there would be no evidence of such violence from her, I would not dare risk it. I would not go to Eric, with Lacrecia free to do whatever she pleased. Oh, perhaps, I was just gullible and daft to believe her immediately.

Then, if I were to escape…then the only way to go would truly be to my nearest living relatives because I know that they would shelter me from Lacrecia. My grandparents would surely hide me, keep me away from sight. But I would not complain. It would be for the safety of others, for Eric. As long as Lacrecia's threat was feasible, I couldn't be free. And it was as real as any chain that might be holding me now.

I tried to imagine my grandparents and hoped in my heart that somehow my imaginings would come to reality. They were the door to my escape, and it didn't matter that the last time they saw me was during the funeral of my mother.

"Lady Alva!" I heard someone whisper.

I sat up from my bed.

"Lady Alva!"

"Yes?" I answered.

"It's Cathy!"

I stood up, and almost ran to the door. "Yes? What it is? Is something the matter?"

"Madame is too busy preparing for her guest, so she basically forgot us lowly people," she said. "And did I ever mention that before I came to Rista, I lived with my younger cousin, who was thief? I never got his morals, but I learned his tricks."

There was some clicking in the locks, and suddenly the door was open.

Light burst from the outside into my room of darkness, much like hope erupted blindingly into my heart.

"Oh Cathy! How can I ever thank you?"

"Hmmm…never to mention me helping you?" she answered with a grin. "I'll leave these lock picks in your room—let Madame think you've been learning, or your father taught you."

"Yes! Anything to disassociate you from me. I would hate it if you were to come to any danger!"

Cathy nodded. Then she grabbed my hand and we half-ran to the back exit of the manor. When the door opened, the sweet air that blew through the door was enough to make me realize that, freedom was so close!

"I'll take you to the far edge of the manor, just near the forest. I can make up any excuse for myself, but I cannot have you caught alone," Cathy said.

"Thank you very much, Cathy!"

"Oh! Thank Rosamund too! She's the one entertaining Lacrecia, so she would have to forget you exist!"

I gave a silent prayer of thanks for Rosamund.

"And wear this!"

Cathy handed me a cloak. I quickly wore it, placing the hood over my head, so I was certain that I was unrecognizable.

We walked all the way, almost out of the manor, through the gate. It was a bit strange actually, escaping through the front gate. But Cathy knew that it was the only way to get me safely out of the manor, unless we both knew how to climb the high walls surrounding the place.

But as we turned the bend leading to the forest, I stopped.

There was a beautiful horse, dark as night, standing as still as his owner. Then, in a painful realization, I knew who it was. Of course I couldn't believe how thickheaded I was for not realizing too soon. The only person who could make Caroline jump about like a lunatic was the person who I would most like to see yet would not want to see. Only one person could make her sing to herself out of happiness. Only one person would be able to turn Lacrecia into the _Madame _that Cathy continuously mocked and hated.

It was Eric.

And there I was, making my way out of the forest when I saw him, standing, almost contemplatively before turning the bend to go to my home. He was looking at the manor with this expression in his eyes. But he didn't see me, or Cathy, for he was quite far away, and some trees obscured his vision.

I stopped and quickly ran back a few steps, and collapsed on the ground, my back leaning against the stone wall of the manor's gate. Cathy ran after me, puzzled with what just happened.

"Lady Alva? What is the matter? Freedom is so near! That man will not notice you!"

"I cannot…not with him so near…" I whispered.

Lacrecia had wanted me locked in my room because she knew he would be coming…and as a maid, I would out and about the manor, doing my duties.So she had locked me up, and gave no blatant hint that it was him who would come calling. Oh, but she should only mention his name that I would stop in whatever I was doing.

"Why?" Cathy demanded. "There is no time, Lady Alva! The quicker we leave, the closer your freedom is!"

"I cannot run away with him so near." For only my mind was stopping my heart and my body from rushing to him.

Cathy abruptly sat down beside me. "Who is he? Is he not the prince? What would it matter to you?"

"Too much…"

"Then it is true what they are saying?"

I didn't need to ask. "Yes…and I cannot go, Cathy. You must stop me, for if I am closer to him than I am now, I do not know what I would do…I cannot put him in danger."

"Madame is not someone you should fear! And he is the prince!"

"And she is my stepmother…who I have never known, and who has proven herself dangerous. I cannot risk it, I cannot risk _him_."

She looked at me forlornly. "Alright then…let's wait for him to enter the manor. But he will probably see us, Lady Alva. Once, he enters the manor. You cannot go back inside…we have no choice!"

There was truth in her words.

I heard the hooves of his horse moving closer and closer.

I held my breath and hoped that he would not notice Cathy and I, as we were maids. What were we to him, who was a prince?

But I knew him, and I knew that every person, no matter what the status, was important to him. So I looked at the ground, the hood obscuring my identity. Cathy held my hand, and we walked slowly and surely to the manor gate, as if nothing was the matter.

Her suddenly became harder, and I realized that the horse hooves have stopped.

Eric had stopped…I could see the hooves of Nodnal, steady and unmoving.

I looked only at the ground. I didn't dare look up. I was frightened of him, although I had every chance to leap up to him and tell him to get me out of this place.

"Excuse me?" I heard his voice, and my heart almost died to hear it again.

"Your Highness!" Cathy said in reverence. I felt her dropped to a curtsy, and I did the same. "How can we be of service to you, your Highness?"

There was a pause.

Then he spoke, his voice careful, almost secretively. "Listen, it may sound impertinent but could you please tell me what happened to one of the ladies of the manor?"

Cathy's grip was taking away all the blood from my hands…for which I was thankful. I was motionless with surprised. _I cannot appear to be myself_, I thought.

"Lady Caroline, sir?" Cathy replied. "Ah, she is beautiful, is she not? She is expecting you!"

"Uh, yes, she is," he answered uncomfortably. "But it is not her I wish to ask about…it is her stepsister, the Lady Alva."

He still thought of me! I wanted to scream "Yes! She is here, right in front of you!" I bit my tongue.

I could also feel Cathy almost jumping to say that I was here. Her grip was still solid, but her voice quivered a bit when she answered him.

"Aye, sir, but you just missed her. The lass—Lady Alva--ran away," Cathy answered. "Even I don't know why," she answered.

I couldn't help it. This time, I dared to look at him. I met his eyes yet I didn't know if he recognized me. Something crossed his face yet I was unable to interpret it. But as quickly as a second could pass by, my face was down again.

"Well, that's all I need to know. Thank you…?"

"Cathy."

"And?"

He was looking at me, wondering what was so peculiar about this girl with the cloak.

"Anne," Cathy said quickly. "My cousin…she is dumb and mute, your Highness. I was only taking her for a stroll in the woods to calm her spirits…"

"Then, best be on your way now. I should not be a bother to your excursion," he said.

"Thank you sir…"

He turned his back and when he did, Cathy suddenly said, "Your Highness, what are you doing in my mistress' home? If you do not find the question impertinent…you see, it is rare for us to see royalty!"

I could imagine his now, wondering and lost. He didn't answer immediately, and when he did, his voice was careful, almost hurt. "I was meaning to ask about Lady Alva, but your statement seems to have answered me already."

I almost cried. He still loved me despite my stepmother's spiteful lies. He came here especially for me! And yet, he would have to spend time with Caroline instead of me, his intent. How I longed to tell him I loved him! My hands shook terribly, involuntarily wanting to take off this accursed hook, and clasping his hands with mine. But I couldn't—shouldn't! I couldn't endanger him. And even if I did tell him about Lacrecia's threat, it would be futile. I didn't know how powerful my stepmother was.

The next time we meet…there would be no risk, and we would be safe, in love.

"Your Highness, you might find my suggestion disrespectful but Lady Alva would not be wanting you to forget her if she were here."

Before he could reply, Cathy curtsied to him, and I followed suit. She didn't wait for his answer, and she only ran as if afraid that the prince would be angered by her impertinence. If he said anything, we didn't hear it, for we were far away.

I could hear his horse moving away once more, to the direction of the manor.

All my life, I never would have thought I would walk away from the one I loved. I never thought that I would turn my back on him, and probably never be this close to him again.

Cathy released my hand when we reached the end of the forest. She embraced me tightly, and I could feel tears coming to my eyes.

"Do not turn back," she whispered to my ear, then she pushed me to the forest, and ran back to the manor.

I ran as well, away from the manor, away from Eric—and into a future that was uncertain.


	15. XIV

Never had the forest been so dark and inhospitable. Just weeks ago this place was a haven of my dreams, furtive thoughts, rendezvous, clandestine friendships and eventually love. Before, this place was my refuge from my burdens. In the forest I could run free and do anything I wished to do. I gained my courage and strength standing on the same ground the trees thrived on. But now it was the coldest place I had ever seen. The wind was like a sinister whisper passing through the menacing trees with knobby branches. It seemed to me that there were eyes following me wherever I went. The sun was still high on the sky but the forest did not appear to receive the rays of light. The branches filled with leaves and laden with bearings was once the sight of life and nature. Yet now, through my eyes I saw only life then inevitable death.

I only noticed now, after seventeen years of spending my time in this place, that the forest was a place that reflected your situation. In the moments of my happiness, I saw the darkness of the forest as the cooling shade of the leaves above me. The darkness protected me from the harsh rays of the afternoon sun. Yet now, while I was running away, the forest seemed to be this strange unknown spot where trees grew out of the ground without accord. The forest was once with the energetic chirping of lively birds, yet today the chirps of the birds were reduced to warnings of danger. Before, every step inside the forest was an invitation to live and be liberated but now every step called for anxiety and the sense of impending doom.

The once verdant surroundings were now barren like my soul.

I had been running for hours now. My mind had been blank all that time but when I stopped and rested, all my emotions rushed into me and I began crying.

I hated crying. Tears falling from my eyes, the tightening feeling in my chest, my eyes reddening, my hiccups…I hated it all. I used to hold all my emotions inside me until it got out. Now I knew that I shouldn't keep it all myself.

With each tear that fell from my eyes, I felt better. It was all getting out through tears—my sadness, my loss, my desolation, and my fear. Although crying would not solve my problems, it eased my emotions. I realized that crying would never solve anything. We cry because we feel helpless in that one moment. We cry because it is the only thing we could do at that time. We cry because there is nothing else to do. Crying was like a little cold water to hot water. It neutralized the instability we feel. Like a little cold water to hot water, it wouldn't completely change our feelings. It could only make a little more bearable, a little more tolerable.

I stood up again. I was not about to drown myself in self-pity.

_Lacrecia__ will not get away with this_, I vowed. If I would have to die just to make her suffer, let it be. If she had the right to make me miserable, then I would the right also.

She had taken everything, and now the only thing I had. I would get it back, and she would be the one to lose everything.

* * *

Nature was compassionate to me. If travelers were in the forest, all alone, without food or a horse, then he or she would be dead. But I was alive, and no animal had shown hostility towards me.

After Cathy had pushed me into the forest, I ran unstopping to the direction of my grandparents' home. Or at least, what I thought was the direction. The manor of my grandparents was named Mesar, and by horse, I believe it was about a week away from Rista. I refused to think what it would be like by foot.

The time it took for me to travel was unimportant, as long as I would reach them.

After I had cried everything out of my system, I stood up, and walked surely to the direction of the town. Surely, I would be able to get directions to Mesar. I was careful to avoid sight of the road, for how was I supposed to know if Eric would pass by, his face angered by his encounter with Lacrecia and Caroline.

I wondered what was happening in Rista now.

Eric was probably still trapped in the solarium, listening to the coy remarks of Caroline, while Lacrecia was watching with approval. The image was so vivid in my mind. I could imagine his hands clenched in frustration, frustrated by the futility of his mission. But in his face, there would be a smile for Caroline, for he could not reveal his true intentions; all believed that he was there to visit my stepsister.

I knew that the interest Caroline gloated about was deception. Eric needed to know the truth about me, and the best place to find out was Rista. He might have come there, thinking to come across me, in my state. The idea must have crossed his mind that Lacrecia was holding me prisoner, and that the rumors in Court were mere lies to hide the truth. It was the reason why he spoke to Cathy and I because he knew that those who were not of nobility had no reason to lie to him about me. But he had chosen the wrong people to ask. Not only was he welcomed with my absence, the "truth" that he had been hearing for weeks had been confirmed by a servant. Would he finally believe the rumors that I had left him? What reason would hold him back? And if he did believe…would he hate me, or the "me" that supposedly ran away? He would surely be angry, irredeemably so. For I knew Eric, and it was deception that angered him the most. It would seem that I was only baiting him.

But I had told him, before we parted that fateful day we had learned of our love for each other that he must trust me, no matter what rumors would surface. And yet…to what extent was his trust? At one point, he would be asking himself if it was trust or denial or stupidity. And one day, he would let go of me. He would try to forget me because in the end, I would be a mystery he would never be able to solve—for who could tell the truth but my stepfamily?

Lacrecia and Caroline, I knew, would hold the truth to their graves. Edith, on the other hand, would speak for me…if she could. She had already resigned to her fate, and her fear of Lacrecia and Caroline prevented her. And I couldn't expect so much from her, because I also fear the wrath of my stepmother.

Edith would be silent, more silent than ever if possible. She was not the same as she was weeks ago, when she had first stood up for me. She isolated herself once more, and she spoke to no one, not even me. Not a single word would escape her lips when there was company. But somehow, Edith was still there, somewhere inside the mute shell Lacrecia created for her.

When I was doing one of my chores in Rista, a few days ago, I heard her speaking, but not to a person. She was speaking to a bird perched on her window, and she was asking how she could be free as well.

Perhaps, not all cages were small rooms with no windows, and a lifetime of servitude.

Why did I think about Edith? Because, somehow, I wished that she was with me, walking in the forest, with death hanging over my head. It was a far better plight than Rista. At least, in the forest, I was able to do what I needed to do, and what I wanted to do. I had a choice. If I wanted to scream, I could because nothing could hold me back.

But I had more worries. And one of them was food and money.

Obviously, I was not one with foresight. I had completely engrossed myself in planning an escape (which failed) that I had forgotten amenities that would help me survive.

"How intelligent of you, Alva," I muttered to myself.

With no food and money…how did I intend to carry on my journey?

I searched the pockets of my cloak, hoping that someone had more foresight than I. And she did. With a cry of joy, I discovered coins in the pocket of my cloak. It would be enough to last me three days…if I was very careful with my consumption. Cathy and Rosamund were blessings in disguised…and I had much to do to express my gratitude for them. These coins must have been much of what they own—and they had given it to me. How could I repay such kindness and generosity?

I needed to last for at least two weeks, for that was probably how long it would take for me to reach Mesar. Aside from these coins, I could persuade someone from the town to hire me as a helping hand. At most, I could work for one week…but then, if the conditions couldn't be changed, I was willing to work longer—just for me to reach my destination.

The day moved on as I walked all the way to town. What kind of employment was I capable of? After Lacrecia? Anything. If they needed a pig keeper's assistant, I would be more than happy. Pigs were gentler than that woman.

By the time I reached the town, it was already late in the afternoon.

When one speaks of the word "town", one always thought of quaint houses and happy people working the day away with a smile. But that wasn't really the case, as I was about to discover.

I had been to the town before, but only on the rare occasions that I went out of Rista. And my view of the town was usually from a carriage window. My life, as it turned out to be, was very limited to Rista, its surrounding environs, and the palace—and my travel was only in my imagination, through the books I read. I had to admit that I was not worldly as I had hoped to be, for the first sight of the actual town struck me dumb.

It was, in a word, chaotic. Everywhere there were people screaming and running, bumping into each other, cursing, and running and selling. All kinds of activity were happening in the town, and no one appeared to be sitting still.

There was a buxom woman shouting at an urchin for stealing her purse. An old man was hawking trinkets that hung from a cane he raised up high. There were girls, all about my age, chattering at one corner, and suddenly gawking at a comely young man who happened to passed by. That comely young man proceeded without care, a swagger in his walk, and occasionally he would wink to an unfortunate woman. And he did, at middle-aged woman who was holding a basket, which dropped in surprised. Her cry of frustration was heard by her children, who then ran from everywhere, going to their mother, asking in small squeaky voices if she was alright.

And, as I had come to realize, the town was not exactly the loveliest place in the world. There was muck everywhere, which I absolutely refused to examine. And one must be careful in walking the streets—someone might just carelessly dump the contents of a throne through the window. It was crowded, noisy, and frenzied. But what was to be expected? This town was where transactions were made, where the masses congregated to interact. Trade, entertainment, and everything else happened in town.

I was beginning to wonder if I was really ready…and I suddenly doubted my determination.

A part of me wanted to run away from this unknown world, back to Rista…I was comfortable there, everything was known to me. But there was Lacrecia—and my pride.

I had gotten myself into this, and if this was the only way for me to escape, then I must be strong, I mustn't give up.

Even if I had just accidentally stepped on something that looked like it came from the rear end of a horse.

I pressed my lips together and moved on. It was just…_that_. Nothing to fret about. _You are just shocked, Alva_, I told myself in encouragement, _you will get used to this, as quickly as you got used to the lye burning your hands when Lacrecia wanted to floors clean. And besides, if you don't pass this trial, then how will you ever return to Rista? How will you have your life back?_

And I couldn't disappoint Cathy and Rosamund who had risked a lot to have me escape—and because they believed that what had happened to me was unjust, and they saw me as a friend. I couldn't live without not trying because if I would be in Mesar, I knew I would be closer to Eric…somehow if everything would be alright, if the haunting of Lacrecia would be at an end.

The first thing I should do was to ask for temporary employment. But where?

I looked around for some sign…

Apparently, the answer was everywhere. This place really wasn't the most organized place, so the best way for me to find some kind of employment would be to go from door to door and ask. I didn't think I looked terrible, in fact, I was cleaner than some of the people here. The rags that I wore were decent, and I didn't look like a thief. Perhaps, someone would have the heart to employ me.

But the first door I knocked on slammed closed the moment the owner saw my face.

"Where can anyone find a job in here?" I asked out loud in frustration.

"You could go to the inn. I heard they need some pretty girls there; one of the girls ran away last night," a passerby answered.

But before I could thank him (the voice was that of a man's), he had already disappeared in the bustle of people. That was certainly strange… Was this normal? I had to ask myself. Do passersby randomly give away employment hints to people like me? And while it seemed dubious, it was the best shot that I had. I simply had to go to inn and ask if I might have some employment.

What could go wrong?

But then, I had asked this question before, and something did go wrong.

Be optimistic! I chastised myself. Now was not the time for such thoughts. I needed a way to survive for the two weeks I would travel to my grandparents in Mesar, and for me to do so, I needed food and money. Work in an inn would not be so terrible. Surely. Lacrecia's chores were worse.

After asking for directions, to a woman who was not very accommodating, I made my way to the inn. I dodged several wagons, and no longer stepped on any muck. Inside my coat, my hand held securely on the few coins I had. If nothing happened today, I would be able to buy some food, and if I had to sleep in the forest, then so be it.

The inn surprised me for its pleasantry. Flowers decorated the windowsills and there was a welcoming sign with a cat painted on it. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The inside was as pleasing as the outside, with a few chairs and tables, and a stairway leading to the rooms upstairs. Unlike the boisterous cacophony outside, the inn was filled with welcome noise. There was laughter and conversation from the few guests. A woman was busily going around the tables. She stopped when she saw.

"May I help you?" she asked politely.

I took a deep breath. "I know this might sound very peculiar but I was told that the inn needed a helping hand. I am, currently, looking for board and employment, and I was wondering…that is, I was hoping that you would be able to accommodate me. I am willing and capable to do anything, Ma'am." I said in one breath, my nervousness getting the better of me.

This was certainly an experience for I had never asked anything from anybody, never begged a favor. Suddenly, I was glimpsing my old life as a life of privilege and luck—in truth, everything had been given to me, without any restraint, before my father died. And even when he did died, Lacrecia, before she turned into a complete villain, had not deprived me of the basic needs. I had never asked, never begged…And now, I was beginning to realize that life was a bit uglier than it seemed to me.

The woman looked at me curiously. "Well, you came to the right place. Your talk is too pretty for an inn in town, but if you can work like horse and don't complain, I think we can arrange something."

I smiled, surprised at her answer. I was afraid she would turn me away; had she done so, I would have nowhere to go. I glanced around the inn. There were two serving girls in the inn, occupied with entertaining the guests. For a few days, I would be doing the same things—and this would be the start of change.


	16. XV

_Before I start this chapter, I've decided to share this quote, so you will be able to understand the circumstances surrounding our heroine. _

_(And I do know that it had taken a long time to upload again, but this time, the reason is an extensive rewrite. Alva is alive for me, and she begs for this experience to be written.)_

"You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star." – Friedrich Nietszhe

* * *

At precisely five in the morning, I woke up. I blinked my eyes, unbelieving in my situation. For some peculiar reason, I was looking forward to what the day would bring. Yesterday, Magda, the mistress of the inn, gave me a rundown of the duties I was to do in the inn. Generally, I was to be one of the serving girls of the inn. There were three of us. The last one had indeed run away, Magda related, and she was in dire need of help. She considered it lucky that I had come to her doorstep when she needed it the most.

The inn was quite prosperous, with plenty of customers at any given time. But, she said, it was during the evening when there were many customers. Not just those who stayed in the inn, but those who enjoyed the food in drink served. It was my task to entertain them, to serve them their drinks and food, to answer any inquiries. But Magda has excused me for the night, and explained that I probably needed some rest.

It had been quite magnanimous of her, especially for someone who had wanted me to work like a horse and not complain.

So I spent the rest of the night in a room as small as the one I had in Rista, but then, I didn't share the room with two other girls. I had not met them yet—or haven't spoken to them. When I had arrived in the inn yesterday, after a quick briefing, I was unceremoniously abandoned in the kitchen, with nothing with to do but wash dishes. Not that I was complaining. I had been slowly adapting to hard work, and this was kind compared to Lacrecia's orders, which were even crueller as it was tinged with sincere loathing. The whole day was spent washing dishes, which were considerably plenty with the continuous flow of guests. I hadn't had time to rest.

By the time the sun had almost set, Magda had given some dinner, then she showed me to my quarters. As I was about to enter, two girls who were about my age went out of the room. Both of them were quite pretty, and they smiled at my direction.

Magda had said their names, Penny and Julia, and with one quick movement, she had motioned them to go to the area for patrons. They had obeyed without a word for Magda, or a word for me.

It was certainly strange, the way Magda handled the inn with utmost efficiency, to the point of remoteness. There was not a warm spot in her. Everything she did had a rational reason. Magnanimous—indeed—but only because I needed rest for harder days.

"Practice your words, dear. I said your talk is too pretty—and no one will understand a peep from you."

She said "dear" without any warmth, like a mother or an aunt would have done. I had shuddered then because she reminded me of Lacrecia when she called me "girl".

I was being paranoid. Magda was certainly not like her.

The rest of the night had been spent practicing my speech—which did not progress. What did she mean "too pretty"? Was there "ugly speech"? Or "ugly words"? That night, I decided to be as mute as possible, to keep them from hearing my too pretty speech and somehow be offended. Let them think I was a partial mute (if there was a thing).

I was alone most of the night and I had finally fallen asleep despite the constant banging and boisterous laughter downstairs in the main area of the inn—and I had slept considerably deeply when I was awoken by the soft opening of the door. The moon had been high in the night sky, I could tell. There had been silence, far from the chaos that I experienced before falling into sleep. And I was asleep for so long that I could hardly open my eyes. But I knew what I saw. It was either Penny or Julia, and she was just entering the room. But it was just a disturbance. I was asleep before I knew it. I didn't wake when the other serving girl entered.

I knew they wouldn't be getting much sleep. Magda wanted us all awake by five in the morning.

Which I already was.

I glanced around, looking at the sleeping figure of my fellow serving maid. And I wondered, why had stayed so late in the night? So late that there were no longer people who were awake.

It dawned to me that this would be the life I would have for quite some time. Sleep would be allowed to serving girls when there would be no one to serve. And Penny and Julia and served until early in the morning, falling into an exhausted sleep after.

But it was only Penny in the room, and Julia was not in sight. Strange.

It would be despicable of me to wake Penny, but it would also be despicable if I allowed Magda to see them _not _awake. So with the lightest touch, I nudged Penny and whispered for her to wake.

She opened her eyes so suddenly. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and then she muttered an oath. She looked around anxiously, her gray eyes wary. It appeared that she was satisfied by what she saw, for she gave a sigh and looked at me apologetically.

"Sorry," she said. "Thought it was Ma'am Magda waking me up."

For once, I wasn't able to say anything.

Penny pushed the blanket from her, and I saw she was still wearing her serving garb. She sat up in bed and stared at me. "Well, what are you looking at? You've got a problem?"

"No," I answered. "I'm sorry, it was rude of me to stare. I just thought that it would be more beneficial if I wake you up...rather than...Ma'am Magda." I remembered Lacrecia again, and how she would punish me if I had woken up a second later than what she had ordered.

To my surprise, she snorted. "She said your talk is too pretty. And it is. Too many words, you know?"

"Too many words?"

"Right. You can just say you want to wake me up rather than Ma'am Magda."

Apparently, the attention span for sentences was slim, I wanted to say. But then, that would prompt another comment from her.

"I'd better go downstairs," I answered, not wanting to extend the conversation about my speech.

I turned my back to go but her voice stopped. "Oh, don't go away in a huff!"

She had already jumped off the bed, and grabbed my arm. "I was just kidding. I don't know why you talk that way, but you'll learn," she told me optimistically.

"And what's so wrong, speaking the way that I am speaking?" I couldn't help but ask with a sort of frustrated tone.

Penny looked at me as if the answer was obvious. Well, it was probably obvious to her but not to me. "Pretty talk is not for serving girls, or any other guy or gal in town. That kind of talk is for the nobles—and you aren't, are you?"

"No, certainly not."

"There you go again."

"I can't help it. My...mother taught me to speak this way despite the fact that we aren't of nobility. She likes to pretend to be noble," I lied.

"That's gonna get you in trouble. Unlike your town, wherever you came from, folks here don't like people pretending to be who they are not. And a nice talking serving wench isn't an exception. They will think you are noble, and they'd hate you."

"Hate me?" I almost squeaked.

"Right. Hate you. Coz people here don't like to be talked down. A serving wench is a serving wench, not someone pretending to be noble. They'd think you think you're better than them."

"Oh," I said, somewhat understanding. "Then I better not speak."

"Better." She smiled at me, and proceeded to push me through the door. "We've got to go down now, or she'll have a fit!"

I voluntarily moved to exit the room rather than be pushed out by her. "She didn't tell me what to do during the morning. What should we do?"

"Well...she wants us to bathe first," she answered with a laugh. "You can't serve people if you're smelly. You'd make them puke with your smell."

"Excuse me!" I said, a bit offended.

"No, you're not, but for her you are. We all are unless we take a bath."

"Where's Julie?"

"In one of the rooms. I don't know," she answered.

"She has a different room?" I asked, vaguely remembering three beds in the room we had just vacated.

"No, she just sleeps in other rooms. Silly girl!"

I didn't say anything, and tried to forget what she said.

Magda—it was suddenly glaringly obvious—was quite obsessed when it came to cleanliness. She had setup bathing stations at the back of the inn, specifically for her employees. The rest of the rooms in the inn had their own bathing rooms, routinely cleaned by other staff of the inn. Had I mentioned that the inn was exceptionally well-populated and popular? There were about two cleaning ladies who came only at five in the morning, and Penny and I saw one of them in a room, daintily fixing the bedspread. There were many in the kitchen staff, mostly children who were apprentices of sorts to the main cook of the inn. And there were the serving girls, the three of us—who were supposed to be clean.

After the morning routine, as I had come to call it, Penny and I entered the main area of the inn, with our dresses as serving girls. Julie was not yet in sight.

"Won't she get in trouble?" I asked Penny, knowing that someone who was as strict in cleaning would most like be equally strict in punctuality. "Magda has said we must be ready by six in the morning sharp."

Penny shook her head. "There are exceptions."

She didn't say anything, and I no longer wanted to probe.

Magda entered the main room of the inn, and went to our direction. As she went our way, she checked the tables for dust, adjusted the chairs to a precise distance from each other, and looked for anything untoward. Nothing missed her sharp eyes.

By the time she reached us, the inn looked better, in a marginal degree for the normal being or in an exponentially better one to the eyes of an obsessive person. She looked at Penny and I with a curious expression I couldn't understand. Then she said: "Good enough. Carry on with your work."

"What did she mean?" I asked Penny when Magda left us to observe the kitchen.

"She only means we're pretty enough, and it's time to work."

"Must we be pretty?"

She looked at me as if I was daft. Then I realized that Penny was exceptionally beautiful, with her large grey eyes and curling blonde hair. There was a certain kind of liveliness in her face, emphasized by her round cheeks and bright disposition. And then I realized that the answer was that we _must _be pretty. It wasn't an option. It was a requirement. How it applied to me, I couldn't begin to fathom.

"We must," I said.

"Yes," Penny answered. "We must. Because if we are hags, no one will come. No one wants an ugly girl serving them."

I could only nod.

She suddenly held my hand sympathetically. "I had the same reaction when the first week I was here. You think you're more than your looks, but you're not. It's either you're pretty or ugly. And sometimes, it's good to be pretty, sometimes it's not. In this case, you can't really know, you know."

"You get a job when you're pretty?"

"Aren't you lucky you are?" she told me, instead of answering directly. And with that, Penny gave a sort of bitter smile, and left me standing alone. She approached a group of travellers who had just entered the inn. Her bright tinkling laugh was heard by everyone in the inn, but then, it was just I who was listening, and perhaps Magda had heard as well.

I was not worth my looks, I wanted to say. But of course, if one needed food, if one needed a place to stay, what more could that person give except what she has? In this case, I was desperate, and I needed a place to stay, so must I complain? Must I assert my belief that looks could not determine one's fate in life? But the truth was, I couldn't. Had Magda thought me pretty, then I would be in the streets once more, figuring out how to find the proper means to arrive in my grandparents' manor.

So what had happened to some earlier discourse on worthiness? All this time, I had believed that it was intellect that was needed to progress in the world. One needed only education. And I had immersed myself in the study of books, in learning, in hopes that through the things I have read, I would gain experience and credibility. I would gain my worth through learning, and not through lovely dresses and frivolous pastimes.

But I was standing in this inn, the contradiction of everything I had believed in. I had tried to learn more and more with the world—only to find out that it didn't matter that I knew something about the civil wars of Miseth or the religious struggle in Rosea. It didn't matter that I could do mathematics, or I could quote lines of poetry. It didn't matter that I could engage in intelligent conversation, it didn't matter that I could sustain a debate concerning Trylan politics—as I had thought.

Silly, silly Alva. Was it about time I was to learn that a life dedicated to books was meaningless in the world outside Rista? Was I only worth my looks? Were women worth only their looks—the way they spent hours and hours in front of the mirror, naive to everything except their fashion and face, and apathetic to anything that did not tickle their trivial vanities?

"Alva!" I heard Magda say. I looked to the door of the inn, and I realized that a new group had entered.

_No one wants an ugly girl to serve them_, I recalled Penny's words. Suddenly, I wanted to make myself ugly. I wanted to dirty my cheeks, blacken a tooth, dishevel my hair—cut it even. Anything to be ugly, just to prove that it didn't matter as long as I provided them with excellent service.

But deep in my mind, I knew. I _knew _that it did matter, and I needed the benefits that would come to me if I served them well and served them prettily.

Ironically, I must be pretty, but I couldn't talk "pretty".

I swallowed my words and banished my thoughts, and walked to the direction of the guests.

"Good day," I greeted, in the liveliest voice I could muster, while thinking of ways to proving to them that I was not my looks. I was my conversation, my intellect, my wit—but for now...for now, _only, _I needed to work to accomplish the rest of things I must do.


End file.
